A Knight at the SGC
by elfin2
Summary: Now complete. Stargate crossover with Star Wars universe but not characters. Jedi and Goa'uld and lots of Earthside complications. Series 7. Read and review!
1. A little recon

Chapter 1: A little recon  
  
"It's no problem, sir," Major Samantha Carter told her CO. "It's the same kind of malfunction as P9Q-281."  
  
"Mid-dial lock-up," Daniel helpfully supplied while slathering his nose with sunscreen.  
  
"Exactly. I'll have it fixed in ten minutes and then we can send the MALP back." She was already pulling out the crystals.  
  
"Alright. Let's do a little recon. Daniel?"   
  
"Oh. Right." He shouldered his pack and followed. "You know, if this temple really was built by the Ancients, it should look…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, dirtier. The ceiling has obviously had small rocks fall down, it's cracked and crumbling, but the floor is clean."  
  
"Huh. You think maybe the Goa'uld?"  
  
"Well, I can't really see a Goa'uld using a broom."  
  
"Good point. Teal'c?"  
  
"I will remain with Major Carter."  
  
"Alright. Keep 'em peeled."  
  
"Keep what peeled?"  
  
"Never mind." They headed out through the corridors. "You do know which way we're going, right?"  
  
"This is impressive," Daniel said.  
  
"Ya think?" Jack was staring out at the view.  
  
"Actually I meant the stone."  
  
"With the invisible writing on it?"  
  
"Jack, this column is bearing the weight of the entire section of the roof and it's less than a metre thick."  
  
"Tough stuff," he said after a bit, turning to look. "Any idea what it's made of?"  
  
"What's that?" Daniel pointed. "Just there… whoa!" In the distance a fireball was rising.   
  
"There," Jack had whipped out his binoculars. "Look." Deathgliders were circling the area. Adjusting the focus, he could see numerous glints of armour and weapons. The Jaffa had arrived in force. "Why are they over there?"  
  
"Well, this temple does have a peaked roof and it's a long drop down to the forest canopy," Daniel pointed out. "Where are they supposed to land?"  
  
"Then what was that explosion?"  
  
"A better question," Daniel had leaned forward, "is who put that ladder there."  
  
"What?" Sure enough, trailing down from the outside of the column was a good old-fashioned rope ladder.  
  
"Sam, Teal'c, you read?"  
  
"Yeah. We just sent the MALP back. Why?"  
  
"The Goa'uld are here. They're bombing a section of forest."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I have no idea, but we're not the only ones. I just found a ladder down to the forest."  
  
"Right. Someone better stay behind to guard this…"  
  
"Why?" Daniel asked.  
  
"Well, if it gets damaged or destroyed, how do we get back up?"  
  
"Good point."  
  
"I'll stay, sir," Carter offered.  
  
"Knee still bothering you?"  
  
"Just a little, sir."   
  
"You should have something."  
  
"It's not that bad, sir." The three males swapped looks and started climbing down.   
  
"Carter, what do you see?" Jack O'Neill radioed up.  
  
"The Jaffa are spreading out in all directions. They look like they're searching for something. Wait… wait a minute… there's fighting, and a bunch of people running our way. Following a game trail… to your right a little…"  
  
"I found it," Daniel called, having tripped and landed on the little track. "What do these people look like, Sam?"  
  
"They're all wearing the same kind of clothes, and they're running pretty fast."   
  
"Distance?"  
  
"Couple of miles."   
  
"I see them," Daniel called. "There." Up ahead a bright flurry of red lights went back and forth.  
  
"Two sides with energy weapons?"  
  
"Interesting," Teal'c noted.  
  
"What are they doing?"   
  
"Let's get a bit closer."  
  
"Is that wise?"  
  
"Well, if they're fighting the Goa'uld…" He moved out briskly, P-90 at the ready. The others sighed and followed. 


	2. Jedi Knight

Chapter 2: Jedi Knight.  
  
"Varielle," Jedi Master Amarell Cordenn said to his apprentice, "Varielle! Listen to me. One of us has to escape to warn the Admiral. You're the fastest runner and the best in the woods."  
  
"How? We can't get the ring here to work."  
  
"Find a way. We can buy enough time for one of us to run. It has to be you."  
  
"Why not you? You're a Master. I'm just a Paduin."  
  
"There's no such thing as 'just' a Paduin. Duck!" She flung herself behind a tree and took out three of the oddly armoured aliens with three quick shots. Why design such ingenious helmets and leave the legs totally exposed?  
  
"Master Cordenn!" He was nursing a badly burned leg. "Master!"  
  
He shook his head. "I'm old, Varielle. And it'll take all of us to buy you time." She looked around at the grim-faced soldiers.  
  
"You're the youngest," the senior sergeant said with a shrug. "It's your right. Here." He handed her a piece of paper. "For my family." The others handed her their last letters. She took them blindly, tears blurring her eyes as she cowered behind the tree.  
  
"Don't worry," the tough-as-nails corporal told her. "They won't find our home from us. Tell Admiral Sadderve everything. And here. All our work." He handed her the data-cards and his terminal. "Now, I'll throw my satchel-charge and we'll lay down cover fire. You've got to get past that bend and down the incline before the smoke fades. We'll use the last of the rockets to take out their air cover. Alright?" He shook her. "Alright?" He only let her go when she nodded. It was necessary, so she would do her duty.  
  
She sniffed hard, forcing herself to calmness, and reached for her connection to the Force. "Alright. Bless you all, and may the Force be with you."  
  
"We're going to die. Of course it won't be," he said matter-of-factly. "But we'll take as many as we can with us."  
  
"Master…" she hugged him, contorting herself oddly so as not to present a target while she did so. "Thank you for everything." Into his ear, she whispered, "You were a father to me. I love you." She wiped her face again and winced as he handed her his spare blaster packs. "Use them wisely," he told her. "And don't dishonour this."  
  
She made no move to take his lightsaber.  
  
"Take it," he insisted. "Jedi Knight. You've earned it. Now run, and don't look back." She had no time to argue, even though she wanted to. She dropped a kiss on his forehead and waited for the explosion, then sprinted down the narrow track.  
  
As she ran, concentrating on her footing and breathing, she felt him in her head. For the last time, she knew, and mourned. "The Force will be with you. Always." She forced back tears; she needed her eyes. Someone had to escape these slaughterers and warn their people, and speed was her only hope. She'd always been a good runner, and with the Force she was exceptional. Her feet slapped the ground as fast as she could possibly make them.  
  
Behind her she felt lives wink out, friends lost forever. When the last fire, that of her teacher who had raised her from a child, winked out, she felt like howling like a baby, but she kept running. It would only be worse if their deaths were made useless by her failure.  
  
"I must not fear," she recited the litany mentally. "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Fear, anger, hate and suffering all lead to the Dark Side. Only through peace may we know mastery of ourselves and the Force. Be at peace, Paduin." She knew she was no Jedi. The extra weight of the slim cylinder at her belt was a burning reminder of loss, not a thing to celebrate. 


	3. I won't be left behind

Chapter 3: I won't be left behind  
  
"Uh, Jack?"   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Those deathgliders are getting very close, don't you think?"  
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Well, shouldn't we take cover?"  
  
"Yeah. Run!" In true SG-1 style, Doctor Jackson threw himself to one side while Teal'c and Jack threw themselves on the other side of the blast, and Doctor Jackson ended up falling down a hill - almost a cliff - badly bruised and winded.  
  
"Daniel!" His radio clicked. "Daniel!"  
  
"I'm alright," he managed. "I just fell, that's all." He forced himself up and brushed the dirt off. The glider was nowhere in sight. "I'm not sure how to get back up."  
  
"Well, we're under fire here."  
  
"I'll circle around and get back to the temple some other way. You go."  
  
"No one gets left behind."  
  
"I won't get left behind. Go." Almost as soon as the acknowledgement came in he heard someone coming through the bushes behind him and skidding to a stop. He whirled. "Who's there?" He studied the thick underbrush carefully. "Who is it?"   
  
A staff blast just missed him from the hill-top. He leaped behind a fallen log. "Great," he said to himself. "Just great." Then he realised the Jaffa weren't shooting at him. From his right came six thin blue blasts in quick succession with a strange sound. Up at the cliff-top, six Jaffa either slumped or fell down the way he had, bouncing sickly with limp limbs.  
  
"Who's there?" he said. "Who are you?" He didn't raise his gun.  
  
A moment later a tall woman stepped out of the thicket, a strange weapon in her hand. He blinked. She wore her own camouflage gear, which seemed to be brown overclothes with green stains, and had bronzed skin and incredibly thick wiry black hair tied harshly back in a bun, except for one thin braid on the left side of her face which hung to her waist. Rips, bloodstains and burn marks on her clothes testified she had been more than a bystander in this fight. She raised the weapon. He raised his hands.   
  
"I'm Daniel Jackson. I'm from the planet Earth."  
  
She frowned and said something in a language he had never heard before. He shook his head and tried Goa'uld. She shook her head and tried a different language. After that she shrugged, holstered her weapon - a belt holster, he noted - and stepped closer, then her head snapped around and she hissed.  
  
The quick remark she made seemed laced with warning, and she started running. After a moment he joined her; he could hear Jaffa in the distance heading their way. "So you don't like the Goa'uld either?" he asked hopelessly. "You can't understand a thing I say." She gave him a puzzled look, hooked one hand around his elbow and started to sprint. If she weren't towing him, he'd never have been able to keep up.  
  
They burst out of the forest next to a rocky series of cliffs. She nodded in satisfaction and gestured that they should climb. He blinked, then blinked again as she jumped her own height straight up with no visible sign of effort. She stretched a hand down and pulled him up just as easily.  
  
As they climbed, he tried again to communicate with her while keeping watch for gliders, but no matter what languages they tried they couldn't make any headway. He recognised nothing she said, and she evidently recognised nothing he said. After a few minutes they ran out of languages and just climbed.  
  
"Who's your friend?" Jack was waiting at the base of the ladder. Teal'c was looking at her with a warrior's appraisal. She looked at him, dropped one hand to her weapon, half-drew it and then relaxed.  
  
"It's alright. He's on our side."  
  
She looked blank.  
  
"Are you alright?" O'Neill asked her.  
  
She shook her head. "Sy'lathia ne'fedre' ma'shikweh?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"She doesn't speak English, Jack," Daniel explained.   
  
"Alright, what does she speak?"  
  
"I have no idea…whooof!" The tall girl knocked him flat just as a glider came in for a close pass and fired at exactly the spot he had been standing. It had come in undetected over the temple roof and done a tight loop.  
  
"Hey!" Jack yelled.   
  
"Jack…" Daniel had taken a rock splinter right through his thigh and was holding it tightly to control the bleeding.  
  
"That's the last glider," Jack said tersely. "We can't climb up with that circling. Any ideas?" The girl drew a long knife from a thigh sheath and lopped off the thin braid, using it as a tourniquet on Daniel's leg and swiftly withdrawing the rock splinter, then ripping off a sleeve for a pad revealing a scorched white under-tunic.  
  
"Made a friend?" Jack asked. She looked up, as if carefully gauging distances, watching the rope ladder swing in the breeze. Finally she nodded in satisfaction and pointed to the three of them, then the ground.  
  
"I think she wants us to stay here," Daniel said dubiously.   
  
"Well, we can't take it out with these guns, so unless Sam can get more weapons fast…" He turned to ask something, but the bronze-skinned girl was already thirty feet up the ladder and still accelerating.  
  
They stared in disbelief. 


	4. Good enough

Chapter 4: Good enough  
  
Varielle had judged it perfectly, as she felt the Force presence of the pilot whirling around the temple in the strange fighter. The presence was odd, almost two-fold, but two intertwined, like a mother and foetus; the dark one in the green clothing had felt like only one. Besides, these strange ones had killed all of the team and were trying to kill her. Curiosity could wait.  
  
She clung to the rope ladder like a limpet, reaching for Amarell's lightsaber. "I won't dishonour it," she vowed to empty air, calmly dangling so far above ground she'd be dead if she fell. The strange craft whipped back around and lined up for another pass at the ground. Her gentle nudges at the pilot's mind to ignore her had given her the precious seconds she needed.  
  
She jumped.  
  
The Force flowed through her, around her, filling and emptying her at the same time. The impact nearly sent her falling, but she braced her feet against protrusions in the oddly decorated hull and hung on. After a few moments she straightened up and cut a hole in the clear canopy.  
  
The pilot stared at her as if she was a madwoman, tilting the craft wildly, but one quick stroke and he was headless. The strange metal emblem on his forehead glinted in the sunlight. She told herself not to regret. She had her own life to worry about, and a message to deliver.  
  
Gripping the edge of the cockpit with one hand, she waited as the craft rolled over and over, slamming her against the hull with bone-breaking force, until it was headed right into the temple wall. She dropped at the last possible minute, grabbing for the edges of the rock where the entry-way to the interior was. If she could just catch it and pull herself up…  
  
…felt flaming wreckage hit her arm and send her spinning, slamming her into the rock and shattering her elbow…   
  
…felt an icy stab of fear and bitterness…  
  
…spared a moment to be glad that at least the strange people would never know where to look for her home and hurt her people this way…  
  
…felt the open space and tried to move into it but feeling the Force twist away from her pain and her concentration slipping…  
  
…felt the crushing knowledge of failure and certain death…  
  
…felt rope coil itself on one shoulder briefly…  
  
…felt the sudden surge of hope bring the Force back into reach…  
  
…felt the strain of so much as moving a rope so she could stop her fall, and the bitter knowledge she really had overdone it this time during the long hit-and-run battle…  
  
…felt herself slam into the wall, and if she didn't have broken ribs before she certainly did now…  
  
…felt herself being hauled up to safety. The tall blonde man with the spectacles, the one who felt so strangely warm and cold, hauled her up as gently as he could, with the grey-haired military one reaching for some kind of box in his bag, and the dark-skinned alien one standing guard.  
  
They were talking, but she couldn't hear them over the throbbing in her ears. She'd done something very nasty to one knee, but had no time to think about it.  
  
Blessing Amarell for teaching her so well, even if she hated it at the time, she calmed herself and conquered the pain, at least temporarily. They looked shocked when she stood up in one smooth motion, breathing evenly with a calm face.  
  
"I'll pay for this later," she said to herself, hobbling towards the ring room. Another one was there, a woman, a human - and how was that possible? - with light hair and fair skin. Three fair-skinned people. Unusual. That thought passed randomly through her head.  
  
The blonde one, the one who had tried so hard to speak to her, said something and started hitting the symbols. Varielle's eyes flew wide open when it didn't stop after the fifth symbol. He smiled shyly at her and finished, a bright blue energy vortex replacing the view of the stone wall. It always put her in mind of a waterfall.   
  
"Where are we going?" she asked dubiously.  
  
Whatever he said, she could sense through the Force what he was trying to convey - their home, a safe place, somewhere to hide.  
  
She nodded, slowly. She wouldn't lead them to her home, and she needed a doctor. She could take a little time to heal up and learn before reporting back; in fact, she would probably have to. She could barely walk now.  
  
They might be enemies, in which case she need only die to erase all knowledge of how to get back. They might be allies, in which case she had a duty to learn their language and learn about them. Or they might be something even more peculiar. For now, they were willing to help and that was good enough. 


	5. We wait for our guest to wake up

Chapter 5: We wait for our guest to wake up  
  
"Colonel, you left less than an hour ago," General Hammond said as his second in command reported to him, looking the worse for wear. "Was there some kind of problem?"  
  
"Well, you could say that, sir," he said. "We seem to have walked in on someone else's war. The Goa'uld were attacking some people there. We brought one of them back with us."  
  
"Any particular reason?"  
  
"Well, she did take out a deathglider that tried to kill us, and Daniel told us she took out six Jaffa before that."  
  
"Six at once?"  
  
"Apparently. She was also using some kind of energy weapon we've never seen before. We think the others are all dead."  
  
"I'd like to see this guest of ours."  
  
"She's in the infirmary. She was hurt pretty bad. Daniel's there, too. He took a rock splinter through the thigh."  
  
"I'd still like to see her." They headed down to the infirmary.   
  
"Ah, good, just in time for your check-up," a nurse who was far too perky greeted him. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"  
  
Inside the operating theatre, Doctor Fraiser and her best staff were hard at work trying to save a life.  
  
"Well, Doctor, what's your report?" General Hammond asked. SG-1 were seated around the briefing table, with Daniel's crutches perched awkwardly against it. "Is she human?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the doctor said solemnly. "No sign of Goa'uld infestation, and no naquada in her blood. There are minor differences, but that's all."  
  
"Minor differences?"  
  
"High concentration of bone minerals, high iron count. I'd guess she's from a planet with higher gravity and lower oxygen levels. Slightly enlarged heart and lungs, and her internal organs are arranged a little differently. I'm still waiting for genetic analyses, but she's as human as we are. I can also confirm she comes from a high-tech culture."  
  
"How, Doctor?"  
  
"She's had her appendix out, one of her teeth has a filling and two others have been completely replaced, my guess is after a fight. She's well-nourished and basically healthy. She also has an implant at the back of the brain stem, but I don't know what it does. It's not tied into her nervous system, and it doesn't look like a cybernetic implant. It's inactive at the moment. We're watching it."  
  
"An implant. A large one?"  
  
"No, quite small. I've given the X-rays to some of the technicians to try to figure it out, but I don't want to remove it without finding what it does."  
  
"Very well. Can you tell us anything about her personally?"  
  
"Two things. One is that she's been in a lot of fights. There are signs of where broken bones have healed and an extensive collection of scars, most of them less than five years old. The other thing is that she's young. Medically, I'd put her age at sixteen to twenty."  
  
"Based on what?"  
  
"Her teeth. I did some dental X-rays. Her wisdom teeth haven't come up yet."  
  
"She's just a kid," O'Neill said. "How badly was she injured?"  
  
"Staff blasts to the right arm and spine, both some time before you brought her in; my guess is she sustained them running away. Seven broken ribs and all the rest are fractured, broken collarbone, compound fracture of the right femur, and her left elbow and knee-cap are shattered. Possible concussion. Fortunately she didn't sustain any spinal damage, but the staff blast cauterised half her liver and one kidney. I don't know if she'll make it, and even if she does, she may be crippled. She must have been in agony after that blast to the back."  
  
Looks were swapped. "She was running like crazy," Daniel said slowly. "And she could have gone faster if she'd left me behind."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"She dragged me along. I was running as fast as I could, but she was faster."  
  
"Did she say why they were fighting the Goa'uld?" Hammond asked.  
  
"No. I'm going to have to learn her language before I can ask. She didn't understand anything I said."  
  
"Did you try another language?"  
  
"I tried all of them. She tried twelve of her own. We don't have any languages in common."  
  
Looks were exchanged. "And her gear?"  
  
"Some kind of hand-held energy weapon," Sam said. "I tried it out, but it didn't fire. I was going to wait until she wakes up before I start fiddling with the switches to find which one is the safety. Clothing, a knife, a few things like a roll of bandages and some food. She also had a computer in a bag, and these," she spread out thin metallic cards. "I think they're some form of disk storage. I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"What's on the disks?"  
  
"I don't know. I can't get the computer to start up. I think it needs a password."  
  
"It's also in no language I recognise," Daniel added. "There are superficial similarities to a number of scripts, but nothing good enough to translate. I'm checking my references."  
  
"So long as you do it sitting down," Doctor Fraiser said. That seemed to be the general consensus; wait and see.   
  
"What about returning to P4C-992?" Colonel O'Neill asked.  
  
"We sent a team through. The Goa'uld were advancing on the temple and trying to scale the walls. SG-11 returned. Hopefully the Goa'uld won't know we have run into a potential ally."  
  
"Good thinking," O'Neill said to his superior. "General, I don't think those people came from that planet. There was no sign of recent habitation."  
  
"I agree," Daniel said. "Maybe they were exploring, too."  
  
"If that's the case, where did they come from?"  
  
"Possibly the answer is on that computer," Sam said.   
  
"Do your best, Major. I guess we wait for our guest to wake up." 


	6. Language lessons

Chapter 6: Language lessons  
  
Varielle became aware slowly as she came out of her healing trance. She wasn't even close to healed, but her elbow and knee would mend, whole and hale, and her other bones were knitting fast. The worst of her bruises, scrapes and cuts had healed, and she was starving.  
  
"Hey, how are you feeling?" The words made no sense to her, just like the rest of the language. She looked at the short reddish-haired woman in surprise. Different clothes, same skin colour. Same language.  
  
The room was dull, like plascrete; perhaps an underground hospital. A safe place to put war victims in times of struggle. Or it could just be that these people didn't like windows.   
  
"Hey," she looked back at the woman. Varielle tried to speak and her throat rasped. She was suddenly aware of how long it had been since she ate and drank.  
  
But she wasn't as hungry or as tired as she should have been. On one side was a clear bag of some liquid feeding into her arm. Some kind of constant injection system. A very sensible idea, if nutrients was all it was. She reached out with the Force, into the bag and her own body. Satisfied it only contained a simple pain-killer, she looked around for water. The woman was watching her curiously.  
  
Annoyed and amused to be back at childhood levels, she made eating and drinking motions. A moment later a glass of water was furnished. It tasted of purifying agents.  
  
A bowl of hot soup appeared with the blonde man, limping slightly, and a short bald man in need of a better diet. She nodded slowly at him, recognising the aura of 'one in charge'.  
  
She couldn't understand their conversation. Finally the blonde man sat down next to her. "I'm Daniel." She frowned, and he put his hands on his chest. "Daniel," he said. "Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Varielle," she said. "Varielle Mizabwe." He nodded and looked around for somewhere to start, then picked up the water pitcher. "Water," he said clearly, pouring her another glass. She nodded and gave him her word for water. This would be a long day.  
  
A few hours of intense concentration later he was chased out by the short lady, who brought her more food. It felt like it didn't touch the sides, but it was tastier than the soup. Vegetable-like things, meat, something that tasted baked. It was surprising how similar the food was.  
  
"Thank you," Varielle said. She could manage that phrase.   
  
The woman nodded, surprised. "You're welcome." Varielle had had a lot of chances to practice her look of polite incomprehension. "Get some sleep." Another look. The short woman gently pushed her to lie flat and pulled the blankets up. Varielle got as comfortable as she could, keeping the pain at bay, and dropped back into a healing trance. The more she could mend herself, the better. 


	7. A quick lunch

Chapter 7: A quick lunch  
  
"Well, Daniel?" Jack asked his archaeologist as they ate lunch the next day.  
  
"Well, what?" He was immersed in his notes.  
  
"Well, what have you learned?"  
  
"I've learned that her language doesn't seem to have common roots with any languages I've got materials on here."  
  
"No. I mean what did you learn about her?"  
  
"Not much."  
  
"Daniel…" the tone indicated patience was rapidly being lost.  
  
"Jack, I haven't even figured out how to ask where she's from, much less what she was doing there or what happened to her friends. Varielle's learning English fast, but still…"  
  
"Varielle?"  
  
"It's her name, Jack."  
  
"Well, that's a start. Did you find out anything?"  
  
"No. Mostly we tried to learn the language."  
  
"Daniel, we don't have forever. The Goa'uld might have been looking for something useful there."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, we'll have to wait until she wakes up again."  
  
"That could be days."  
  
"I know." Sam sat down next to them.  
  
"How's it going with that computer?" he asked.  
  
She sighed. "I still can't access it. How is she?"  
  
"Healing. Very fast, according to Janet. She thinks Varielle is in some kind of self-induced hypnotic state where all her body energy goes into healing."  
  
"She can do that?"   
  
"Apparently. I don't know how." They settled in for a good discussion of potential alliances, technology, languages and boredom, but before long an airman came in to tell them that the 'visitor' was awake again.  
  
All three of them headed for the infirmary very quickly. 


	8. Plain talk

Chapter 8: Plain talk  
  
Varielle regarded the three people looking at her, the three pale humans who had brought her to this place. The blonde one with the spectacles, who was learning her language with frightening speed; the grey-haired suspicious one who moved like an old warrior, the most dangerous type; the pretty woman with a buzzing mind and a fighter's muscles. A rare combination. None were an average trooper.  
  
"Hello," she greeted them, shaping her words carefully. Their language burbled and flowed. She must sound stilted to them.   
  
"Good morning," the old one greeted her. "How are you?" That meant how was she feeling.   
  
"Alright," she said laconically. She waited. It was easier.  
  
"We'd like to talk to you about where you came from." It took a lot of talking to Daniel to explain that statement. Varielle simply didn't understand enough words and the grammar of that language still eluded her at times.  
  
"Who were they?" she asked. "Like your black friend. The strange ones."   
  
"They're called Jaffa. They serve the Goa'uld."  
  
Varielle blinked. "Who?"  
  
"You've never heard of them?" Another lengthy exchange of languages.  
  
"No," she shook her head. "Never."  
  
"Why were you there?"  
  
"As you were. New places, to see." That met with surprise. "Ah. So you do more - what was the word?"  
  
"Explore."  
  
"Yes. You do other things. Learn? Meet?" She raised an eyebrow. "Fight?"  
  
"We're at war with the Goa'uld."  
  
"You say it as others are not." A long talk. "So there are other humans?"  
  
"Many planets of them," Daniel said.  
  
"I did not know that."  
  
"You thought you were the only ones?" The woman asked. "That your planet was your home?" That took some more explaining.   
  
She shook her head. "I do not know the words. We do not seek war, I can say that."  
  
Nods swapped. "These Goa'uld," she carefully pronounced the word, "they are many?"  
  
"Yes," Daniel said. "But we have allies. Friends," he expanded.  
  
"Your friend - what is name?"  
  
"Teal'c. He is Jaffa, but he's on our side." Another exchange.  
  
"He is not like ones on that planet," Varielle said carefully. She hadn't felt a trace of Force talent in this place; was it possible these people had no Jedi at all? That the ability had been bred out or inhibited somehow, or their species was one of those poor unfortunate ones that had no Force users and they merely looked human?   
  
"He's not working for the Goa'uld," the old one - O'Neill - said.  
  
"Good," Varielle said. "They kill everyone. All my - how you say? Team."  
  
"You don't sound angry," the man said.  
  
"Anger harms all sides," she said. "What?" They looked at each other oddly.  
  
"Are you religious?"  
  
"What do that mean?"  
  
"Never mind. It just sounded like a religious quotation, that's all."  
  
"It is… how you say. It is how I live. Not my people all same." Others besides the Jedi believed that, but not everyone. Not nearly. Fewer still lived by it.  
  
"What were you doing there?" Carter asked. "I mean, you in particular. What was your role?"  
  
"Your place on the team," Daniel explained.  
  
"What is word? You talk of atoms, molecules - but life."  
  
"Biochemist. Someone who studies the chemistry of compounds produced by living things." Among other things, they had gone over a periodic table together, swapping words.   
  
"Yes. I am biochemist. I have… you say, doctor? One who studies a great deal? I think I am one step low."  
  
"Lower. Couldn't they get someone more experienced?"  
  
"Someone older," O'Neill said helpfully.  
  
Another exchange of words. "I was also… what is word? Medic? Not like Fraiser. And was… was one who takes words."  
  
"Messenger. Someone who conveys information."  
  
"Yes. Messenger. If explore is bad, I am to run, go home."  
  
"You're supposed to survive," Daniel said wonderingly. "That's why you were leaving."  
  
"Yes, say my people these - Jaffa? And Goa'uld. I wish go home."  
  
"Where is it?" Carter asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"No?"  
  
"We all know home… what is word, Daniel?"  
  
"The address. The symbols to dial to go home."  
  
"Yes. We all know, but no one say. Never lead anyone home. Never." She looked at them. "I will not say where. I go home alone."   
  
"You don't trust us to keep a secret?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"No. You may lose war." He sniffed. "Or one person, with open of mouth, be ruin of my people. I fight, my people to protect. Not bring in more danger, in another's war."  
  
Looks were exchanged. "You're too ill to walk," Carter finally said.  
  
"I know. I will heal. I wish know what you wish of me. Will you me hold here?"  
  
"No," Daniel said. "You can leave." He meant it.  
  
"Do you speak for… what is name, Hammond? And who say Hammond what to do?"  
  
"No," he admitted.  
  
"Then it not is your word I wish," she said. "But my friends, dead are, because your war. Forget, I will not." Her master, the sergeant, the scientists, all the faces she had worked with, eaten with, trained with, laughed with, mourned with, celebrated with… and yet had not died with. The pain rose again, sorrow and guilt and grief. She pushed it away. "I have a duty. My people, to protect. My team's work, to keep. My team… how you say… their lives, thrown away, are not."  
  
"You want to make sure they died for something," O'Neill said.  
  
"Yes. My friends, they were."  
  
"We'll see what we can arrange," Daniel said. "But some people are going to want answers."  
  
"It wait. Learn your language, I must."  
  
"Why doesn't Daniel just learn yours? He's very good at languages."  
  
"I am also. And if I talk your people will, your language I must speak. Now, sleep, I wish. Please leave." 


	9. Another meeting

Chapter 9: Another meeting  
  
"Well, people?" Hammond asked.  
  
"She won't tell us where she comes from, sir," Carter said. "Not a whisper. She's very… adamant about that."  
  
"Did you discover what that implant in the back of her neck was?" he asked. "Apparently it contains some kind of explosive…"  
  
"I asked her about that," Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "She said that her people can make a kind of device to extract information from the brain of someone who's dead. I think she was talking about reconstructing neural pathways by computer." Looks were exchanged. "I'm not quite sure. The translation was a bit… vague. She says all her team had one surgically implanted. It measures neural activity and body temperature; when the readings drop below a certain point, the explosive detonates. It's a shaped charge designed to completely destroy the brain."  
  
"Nice," Jack remarked sarcastically.  
  
"Yes, but it also means that the Goa'uld can't use a sarcophagus to resurrect any of her team and torture them for information," Daniel said. "So we don't have to worry about that."  
  
"You're sure of that, Doctor?"  
  
"I am, sir," Fraiser said. "If it can do that, there won't be enough of the brain to repair. You might be able to get a body to work again, but the memories and personality will be gone."  
  
"Good," Hammond finally said. "But it's not going to go off here and now?"  
  
"Not as long as she's alive," Daniel said. "She seemed very sure of that."  
  
"What can you tell us about her personally?"  
  
"She's young, intelligent, well-educated…" he paused. "I don't think she's military. She said that there were three types of people on the teams. I think one term she used means civilian scientists, like me, people there purely to study and research the planets they travelled to. There were the military, there to protect the others, and detect threats to their home and people, and one group she called 'Jedi'. She couldn't explain to me exactly what they do, but she said she was studying to be one, and her teacher had brought her along since she was also a biochemist. She was quite clear on that, the scientific training was secondary." Daniel glanced at his notes. "She talked to Captain Marsters, the best biochemist on base; he said she's good enough to have a Masters degree on Earth." He shrugged. "I get the feeling the Jedi are trained in combat, but I couldn't get her to elaborate."  
  
"Well, she'd have to be, with what she did," Carter said.  
  
"I concur," Teal'c spoke for the first time. "She was most skilled."  
  
"Spies?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"I don't think so," he said slowly. "But I'm not sure. Jack, neither of us can grasp each other's language well enough to be sure of anything."  
  
"How long to learn her language properly?"  
  
"Weeks, probably, General. Her language is incredibly subtle and complicated compared to English, and I do know that her home has more than one language. What she's been teaching me is a sort of polyglot mix of all of them that's evolved over the years, but the other languages have still persisted. She was very careful not to tell me much about her home. Nothing about their technology level, military, how long they've been using the Stargates… I asked her and she just clammed up. Wouldn't say a thing."  
  
"Well, she probably sees it as her duty," Carter said. "To protect her people. She understands that this can mean controlling information."  
  
"Yes, she's concerned that the Goa'uld might learn about her people from someone here."  
  
"That wouldn't happen," Hammond said.  
  
"I told her that, but she didn't believe me. She said that it would only take one traitor or one person who talked under torture," Doctor Jackson said it evenly. "She knows we're at war with the Goa'uld; she's also worried we'll lose, and they'll get the information after that. She knows at least some of it is being recorded. She's not stupid, General. She's also cynical."  
  
"Do you think she'd be amenable to opening diplomatic relations with her people?"  
  
"I don't know. If she did, she'd do it out of duty. I learned one other thing about her - you remember how she said she'd remember her team had died because of our war?" The others nodded. "Well, she didn't just lose her team and friends. She lost her teacher." He looked at each in turn. "Who was also her adopted father." 


	10. NID

Chapter 10: NID  
  
Varielle was reading quietly in her bed, a local news publication, with a dictionary by her hand, when someone came in. She glanced up; it was Daniel.  
  
"Asleep, you should be," she said a little sternly. "No good are you, if exhaust."  
  
"Exhausted," he corrected. "I'm fine."  
  
"No, you are not," she contradicted bluntly. "You look like me, a long night after, with interesting new compound."  
  
He smiled a little at that. "I was hoping I could talk to you some more."   
  
"Yes. I just wake up, think a little. Nothing to do."  
  
"Reading our news?" He poured himself a cup of coffee. "Would you like some?"  
  
"I try it once. Taste like urine and powder of limestone. I prefer water." He smiled again, just a little lopsided quirk of the mouth.  
  
"What do you think of our news?"  
  
"Is relief to know you not all live below ground."  
  
"You thought that… oh! No, no, this base was built here to be safe."  
  
"I understand. Some of ours are same. I wish I see your world, your stars, trees, people."  
  
"Well, I suppose I could arrange something…"  
  
"Wait, it must. As soon as walk I can, return to my people I must."  
  
"Why? Why the rush?"  
  
She sighed. "All teams report at intervals. Different times, different missions. When we arrive on planet - your name? Never mind, we not name it either. When we arrive, cannot call home. Controls broken."  
  
"Yes, the dial-home device was malfunctioning. We've seen that before and knew how to fix it."  
  
"We did not. Could not go home. Some supplies, they send us, while try to think of something. We move to forest for water, food, explore, try to learn, hope to find clue to way home. Had been… twelve local days. People back home talk of ways back, but nothing decided. Our people talk much, like yours." He smiled a little at that. "But still, they call, sometimes; we answer. Now we not answer. They will not send others, if cannot come home, but will worry. All my team have families. Grown children, parents, people to come home to."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"My master, Amarell, he raise me, I tell you this. He have six children, all older me than."   
  
"Older than me."  
  
"Older than me. Janama - my almost-mother - is dead. Two years of ours since. All have someone, aunts, uncles, no children depend on us, no true loves. Except Restons, they married couple, they come along on team. Die together." She closed her eyes. "But still, have friends, com- comrades? What is word for one you work with, sound like that at start?"  
  
"Colleagues."  
  
"Yes. Colleagues. Plus if is threat to my home, tell them I must. As soon as can get there."  
  
"You won't be able to walk for another few days at least, even as fast as you heal. Do all your people heal like that?"  
  
"Essan."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"I think you say damn. I heal must." She had ignored the question.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Tell them of your people, I will," she said.  
  
"You'll need some way to find us."  
  
"I saw you dial. I remember."  
  
"You remember that?"  
  
"I remember everything. Is one reason why I come; am - ah - back-up for computer. Remember all, if try. But is not always instant. Is why have trouble with words. Need to think, learn, process. Fit words into thought matrix in head. I very good at it, is natural talent. Another reason I chosen. Our… how you say… project less military than yours. Here almost all soldiers, fighters - even scientists most military. Even you wear same clothes."  
  
"And your clothes?"  
  
"Were same because are most durable material we have, warm at night, cool in day, wash easily, and cheaper in one colour. Also good colour for forest, blend in. Not all same - pockets, undershirts, they change. Is not rule. Is just more bother than result to be different."  
  
"More trouble than it's worth," he said slowly. "I think I see." He was lost for a moment. "How do you think your people will react when they learn of us?"  
  
"Is hard to say. Our government much like yours, with regional people," she fumbled for the word.  
  
"Representatives. One to speak for all."  
  
"Yes. Representatives, but you have two - Senate and Congress, one for area - state, you say. We have one, I think more like Senate. Is near election time. If one big group say go for alliance, other side will say no, to be saying different things. So if you want to talk, talk to military. Not civilians. After all, they the ones who do fighting. As for Jedi…" She sighed. "We have influence, but no power. Is…" she shook her head. "We have powers for emergency, but only used for emergency. Otherwise, we advise. We protect. We watch, learn, teach, study, sometimes fight. Not always. Just sometimes. When few or no other options." She leaned back.  
  
"Sounds a bit like here," he admitted, taking a seat and sipping his coffee. He passed her a glass of water.  
  
"Thanks," she said. At one end of the room the nurse who had been checking on the one other patient, who was asleep, left the room. "Daniel, what is NID?"  
  
His head snapped around. "What? How do you know of them?"  
  
"There was a man, earlier, here. He one of them, wonder about me - what he can learn from me, profit from me. They think they have way to keep me here. I need to know."  
  
"Who was he? How do you know he was NID?"  
  
"I not know his name. Tall, dark hair - doctor, I think, or dress like one. He take away a copy of X-rays and medical record."  
  
"How do you know he was NID?" Daniel was standing up, coffee forgotten.  
  
She sighed and looked away. "He was thinking it."  
  
"You… you know what people think?"  
  
"Not always. Not like you must think. Look, is not common among my people. Is… special trait. Most people like that, train as Jedi. Not all, is no rule you must. But some do. It takes talent, then training. I have both. But must…" She sighed. "Is not like seeing or hearing. I need work at it. Feelings are easier. To be aware of people around you, is common for Jedi. Anxiety, fear, anger, hate, happiness, other things. Is normal, acceptable."  
  
"People trust you?"  
  
"Is what Jedi are. We are meant to be worthy of trust. People like you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You are like Janama. She was not Jedi, no talent, but good woman. She have an old phrase, one I think of her. 'No malice in the soul', I think you say. Like you. If a perfect world, all Jedi have soul like Janama. But is not. You know that."  
  
"I, ah, wouldn't say that…"  
  
"I would. You have sense in here," she jabbed her head, "and here, what is right, what is wrong. Stick to it, as best you can. When others slide, forget, want to forget, you are there, speaking of forgiveness, of caution, of empathy. It is hard, when others expect you to be always there to balance them."  
  
Daniel looked shocked.  
  
"Why so surprised?" she asked gently, nudging his chin with two fingers so he looked her in the eye instead of studying the floor. "Do so few people truly know you, to try?" 


	11. It's hard to believe

Chapter 11: It's hard to believe  
  
"It is hard to believe," she leaned back, rubbing her eyes. Even in a few hours her English had improved markedly. "So many worlds with humans."  
  
"Well, we thought we only lived in this galaxy," Daniel said. "You really left your own galaxy to come here."  
  
"Not me, my ancestors," She corrected him and shook her head. "We had thought we were native to our own galaxy. I wonder what has happened there. If the Republic is still going. I should have studied history more."  
  
"It's still impressive."  
  
"The notion of you being dead, I find more so."   
  
He flushed awkwardly. "Ye-ah, I guess that would be a little… disturbing."  
  
"No, not disturbing. Strange. Interesting. The Goa'uld - they are disturbing."  
  
"They scare you."  
  
She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to be calm. "Yes." She opened her eyes, deep dark pools in the dim lighting of the infirmary at night. "They scare you."  
  
He looked at the floor. "Yes." Again she tipped his chin up to face her. "Yes," he admitted, "they do."  
  
"But you fear more for your friends."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Same." They smiled at each other, a smile of understanding. "Now, in less than an hour your Doctor Fraiser is going to come to work and be very annoyed to find you have not slept."  
  
"Yeah, well, I…"  
  
"Need sleep," she over-rode him. "As do I. I suggest you eat a good meal and go to bed."  
  
"A good meal here?"  
  
"A meal, then," she smiled a little. "As shall I, and then sleep. Take my advice; I am a medic, you need sleep."  
  
"I have work to do…"  
  
"Is not learning about me your work?" Varielle teased gently. "Daniel, you are working too hard now."  
  
"So Jack keeps telling me."  
  
"He cares about you. Perhaps you should listen to him. You look like a dead man walking." He looked at her sharply to be met with a purely impish grin, and found himself laughing.  
  
"Go. Shoo. Depart. Take yourself elsewhere. And sleep!"  
  
"I will if you will."  
  
"I know I need to sleep. And heal. Another day, and I will be able to walk. I will sleep if you do."  
  
"Then I'll sleep," he smiled a little and got up. "Good night."  
  
"Good morning," she replied, making a 'shoo' gesture with her good arm. "Go! Eat! Sleep! Be healthy. You only live twice… or however many times…" He left quickly before she came up with any more jokes. 


	12. I wish to be free

Chapter 12: I wish to be free  
  
"You've got to be kidding," Colonel O'Neill stared at an Air Force Colonel, a Tok'ra and an irate doctor. "You want her to study like a lab rat. You," he turned, "want her as a prisoner - oh, and a lab rat too. Never mind that she's a person and a possible ally."  
  
"She has technology that could be very valuable to us," the echoing tones of a Tok'ra were filled with controlled eagerness.  
  
"She has knowledge that could greatly benefit America," the greedy Colonel who O'Neill had mentally dubbed 'Makepeace Reincarnated' was one step away from drooling.  
  
"Aren't you forgetting she's a person?" O'Neill asked. "She may decide to tell you both to go to hell. I'm certainly tempted.  
  
"Colonel," Hammond gently chided. "Gentlemen, the fact is that she's free to do as she likes. If she becomes a threat to this base, then I'll reconsider, but for now, she's a guest, not a prisoner, not a test subject and not a hostage. We can learn a lot more by talking to her people than we can from antagonising her."  
  
"Besides, she took out six Jaffa and a deathglider," O'Neill added. "Somehow I don't think you could hold on to her." Both men bristled.  
  
"And for the moment," Doctor Fraiser insisted, "she shouldn't even be allowed off the base until I'm satisfied she's healed. She could be crippled for life if she moves too much."  
  
"Then I wish to talk to her," Colonel Bletchley insisted.  
  
"Alright," Hammond said.   
  
"General!"  
  
"Colonel, it's a reasonable request. But if Doctor Fraiser tells you to leave, you leave. It's an infirmary, not an interrogation room. Colonel O'Neill, please find Doctor Jackson and send him down."  
  
"I do not require assistance," Orlan said echoingly.  
  
"She doesn't speak English," Hammond said. "Doctor Jackson has been trying to learn her language."   
  
"He's already in the infirmary," Doctor Fraiser said. "They've been talking for several hours now."  
  
The five - or six, depending on how one counts - headed to the elevator.  
  
In the infirmary, Daniel and Varielle were talking slowly, in stilted voices. Varielle was writing something in her strange script while Daniel frowned at it, making notes in the margin of the paper.   
  
"Doctor?"  
  
"Oh, General," he moved clumsily to get up out of the chair, legs cramping. "Jack?"  
  
"We want to talk to your… friend," the Colonel was almost visibly oily. Varielle regarded him with distaste and contempt as only a teenager can. "Ferlath'an nis'terweh?"  
  
"She wants to know who you are. I think." Daniel sighed and took off his glasses, then rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose.  
  
"We'd like to talk to you about your weapons," Orlan said. As soon as he opened his mouth, she stiffened.  
  
"It's okay," Daniel assured her. "Er'sath inqua Goa'uld." At the look on Orlan's face, he translated. "I just told her you're not Goa'uld."  
  
"You did not explain to her about the Tok'ra?"  
  
"I can barely ask her if her broken bones hurt in her language."  
  
"Can you ask her about her ability to heal?"  
  
"I already tried."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I didn't understand what she said."  
  
Varielle muttered something harshly under her breath and rubbed her throat. "Water… pl- please?"  
  
"Here." Daniel poured her a glass.  
  
"Arshay."  
  
"I think that means thank you."  
  
After a few very frustrating minutes both visitors left. The SGC personnel remained behind and swapped looks.  
  
"If she stays here, they'll find a way to grab her," O'Neill said to Hammond.  
  
"I know," Varielle said behind him. "I'm not stupid. It would most likely be best if I went home as soon as possible." She slid her legs out of bed and stood up carefully. "What?"  
  
"You… speak English?"  
  
"A little. It was good they left. I could not keep that accent much longer."  
  
"Daniel…" Jack turned to his archaeologist.  
  
"And he did not even lie for me," Varielle said. "Do you have some clothes to spare? I cannot go home in this." She looked down at the backless gown. "I will freeze solid. My feet already have."  
  
"You were faking the whole time?" Fraiser asked.  
  
"Not quite," she said.   
  
"You can't go home yet," the doctor insisted.  
  
"How'd you know to play dumb?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"Last night a doctor from the NID came. He took a copy of the medical records of my treatment."  
  
"I'll check, sir," Fraiser saw Hammond's look. She was back in seconds. "I made three copies. One is missing."  
  
"He just walked in and took it?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"I think he was waiting for the best time," Varielle said thoughtfully. "Waiting until no one was here to watch."  
  
"I'll give orders that you're not to be taken off-base without my permission," Hammond said.  
  
"General, you do not rule your military. There are others above you."  
  
"Yes, but it'll take time for them to issue orders."  
  
"My time is running out," she said. "I will have to go home unhealed if I wish to be free. And I wish to be free." 


	13. She doesn't mean us any harm

Chapter 13: She doesn't mean us any harm  
  
"How the hell did the NID find out about her?" Hammond stormed down the passageway.  
  
"How'd they get someone into the base?" O'Neill asked.  
  
"How did Varielle Mizabwe learn the doctor was in the employ of the NID?" Teal'c asked.  
  
"Actually, that's a good question, sir," Carter asked. "Daniel?" They crowded into the General's office.  
  
"Daniel?" Jack prompted when his best friend seemed reluctant to speak.  
  
"She's telepathic, Jack," he finally said.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
"Like Shifu, or…" Sam trailed off. "Daniel?"  
  
"She doesn't mean us any harm, Jack," Daniel said. "She said it's not something she is, it's something she learned. Like it's a skill. A few of her people can do it. She's been using it, 'at a low level', she said, since she arrived. Sort of an extra sense for danger. From what she said her people have some pretty strict rules about what you're allowed to do, and even if she's not breaking any she's certainly bending them, and she'll have to answer for it when she goes home."  
  
"Like a Board of Inquiry?" Carter said.  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"She could have access to all our codes, our mission reports, our file of Stargate addresses…"  
  
Daniel was shaking his head. "General, she just wants to go home and warn her people of the Goa'uld. They're not a bloodthirsty people, they're not looking for a war. She's more worried that they'll take their Stargate and bury it again."  
  
"Bury it again?" Teal'c echoed.  
  
"Apparently they only dug it up about ten of their years ago - and she's seventeen by their count, so their years are about the same year as ours…"  
  
"Daniel!" Jack reminded him sharply.   
  
"Sorry. She said it took them a while to figure out what it did, because they had no DHD and no writings or records of any kind, and they wouldn't be able to read them if they had. They had to do a cold dialling program, Jack, just trying random combinations until they found one that works. They didn't have the leg-up of the Abydos cartouche that we did."  
  
"Where did they find the Stargate?" Carter asked.  
  
"In a vegetable field. A farmer hit it with a plough."   
  
"You're kidding," Jack finally said. Something so prosaic…  
  
"Nope. But they had space travel already."   
  
"You're sure of that?" Hammond said.  
  
"Yes, and it's better than ours. Maybe better than the Goa'uld. What happened is they came from another galaxy, generations ago. The journey took hundreds of years, but they came here and found an inhabitable planet, and settled. They've got the knowledge for a lot of things they can't make yet, because they don't have the population base to support it. They hadn't run into any sentient species in this galaxy, so until they found their Stargate they thought there might not be any."  
  
"They never assumed they were the only ones?" Hammond asked.   
  
"Which galaxy?" Carter asked.   
  
"How many of them are there?" Jack asked.  
  
"Well, apparently they thought humans originated in their galaxy," Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "General, they had a civilisation that spanned most of their galaxy, some kind of republic. Interstellar democracy. And not just humans. One reason Varielle speaks so many languages is not all the people who made the voyage were human, and some of them have their own languages that they've kept alive. And their laws define your rights by whether you're sentient or not. There are actually laws against species discrimination."  
  
"Wow," Carter said after a moment.  
  
"So… they won't have a problem with Teal'c?" Jack asked.  
  
"I don't know. Varielle is the only survivor of her team, and a lot of them were famous. Influential families and friends. The news of how and why they died isn't going to go over well. They've got a set-up a bit like America, when it comes to the media, and their Stargate program is public knowledge. There's going to be a lot of public bad feeling against Goa'uld and Jaffa."  
  
"You actually discussed this?" Jack said. "How long did you talk for?"  
  
Daniel had to stop and think. "About ten hours last night and another six today… what? I've been teaching her English and trying to learn her language. She's very talented, but it's still hard work."  
  
"None of this changes the fact that she could have completely compromised the security of this installation," Hammond said decisively. "We need to change all our access codes."  
  
"We've still got six teams off-world, sir," Carter said.   
  
"Fine. Leave those. Change the rest. When she leaves, we change them again."  
  
"General, she doesn't want to hurt us," Daniel said again.  
  
"I can't take that chance, Doctor. Is there anything else?"  
  
"No, General."  
  
"Dismissed." 


	14. I treat you as such

Chapter 14: I treat you as such  
  
O'Neill had been meaning to talk with Daniel but got caught up in talking with Hammond about threat assessments, and by the time he went hunting for his friend he was very worked up.  
  
It did him no good to find him in his office with Varielle. The young girl was sitting on the desk resting her feet on a box, clad in a sleek black t-shirt that fit like a second skin, combat trousers and boots, all sign of plaster casts removed. Her hair was once again scraped back, but she still looked very pretty. Daniel was looking at his computer and apparently impervious to all distractions outside the text and his companion.  
  
"No," she shook her head. "Nothing like that. I do not recognise anything."  
  
"I'd hoped there'd be something," he slumped back.  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
"Is it not customary on this planet to knock?" Varielle asked impishly.  
  
"Yes," Daniel said. "Coffee, Jack?"  
  
"Is he being rude or friendly?" she asked.  
  
"Well…"  
  
"Friendly," Jack said.  
  
"Ah. Both." Daniel sighed and handed Jack a cup of coffee. "Can I get you anything?"  
  
"No, thank you." She sighed and reached for an open book. "If there are alikes in our history, I do not know them. I wish I had studied history more."  
  
"You never really learned it?"  
  
"I learned the history of our planet and the Long Journey." Both listeners could hear the capitals. "But the Republic, the old galaxy? No. There was too much to learn in a lifetime. There are historians on my planet. Perhaps one will have the answers you seek, Daniel." She handed him the book. "I cannot help you."  
  
"What were you trying to do?"  
  
"Oh, ah, we were trying to figure out which galaxy humans originated in."  
  
"We had always thought we were native to our old galaxy," Varielle said. "But perhaps it is not so. Whether it is or not, it will cause uproar among the scientists. There will be debates fit to shatter glass."  
  
"We had that here, too."  
  
"But with you it did not go out to the world. You hide your secrets here in this hole in the ground, keeping them from other nations. Technology I can understand if you do not wish to share, but general science? The knowledge that faster-than-light travel is possible, or there is a cure for death, whatever the drawbacks, or that your species is not the only one that exists that can think for itself?" She shook her head. "I am sorry. I should not judge."  
  
"Could I have a word, Daniel?" Jack asked.  
  
"Sure, what about?"  
  
He darted a glance at Varielle, who was examining an artefact from West Africa.  
  
"You wish me to leave so you may talk to your friend alone?" she asked.  
  
"Well - yeah."  
  
"Then why not did you say so and ask me to leave?"  
  
"Er. It seemed rude?"  
  
"Is it any more rude expecting me to read your mind?"  
  
"I didn't…"  
  
"You expect me to violate your privacy. Perhaps rude is not the word, but it is certainly not nice." She cautiously slid down off the table. "You are a person, just like Daniel, or myself, or one of my team, or even one of the Goa'uld. I treat you as such." She walked out.  
  
"Did I miss something?" Jack demanded of the air. "Touchy little thing, isn't she?" Daniel was tidying his desk and didn't even look up. "Daniel?"  
  
"Jack, she's lost her friends, her team, and her father and been very badly injured. Now she may not get to go home because some of the people on this planet don't believe in human rights. She hasn't done a thing to hurt us, and she saved my life back on 992. Twice. And yours and Sam's, and Teal'c's. And was very badly injured in the process. You could show a little gratitude, or at least a little compassion."  
  
"You like her."  
  
"She's… good company."   
  
"Daniel…"  
  
"Jack, she's an alien and she's seventeen. She's also a very talented linguist."  
  
"Daniel…"  
  
"Jack, I feel sorry for her, alright?"  
  
"Hey, sorry I asked!" He held his hands up in surrender. "But you're spending so much time talking with her, I just wondered…"  
  
"It's part of the job." 


	15. Collecting my things

Chapter 15: Collecting my things  
  
A bit of walking and a few questions found Varielle standing outside Major Carter's lab. She knocked.  
  
"Who is it?"  
  
"Varielle. May I come in?"  
  
"Oh. Oh, sure." Varielle slid in and looked around.   
  
"Am I interrupting?"  
  
"No, I was just looking at your computer. That is, I assume it's a computer…"  
  
"It is," she said briskly. "I came to ask for my things back."  
  
"Oh. Right. I don't know about the weapons…"  
  
"It is the weapons I wish most of all," she said melodiously. "If there are those who wish to take me against my will, I wish to defend myself."  
  
Sam looked split. "Well, I don't think I can give you that… hand-gun back."  
  
"I think the closest translation is blaster. We are not very original in naming things." She noticed it on the shelf. "Have you tried to use it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It did not work?"   
  
"No."  
  
"May I?" It was handed over and Varielle politely kept it pointed at the floor. She swapped power packs, checked the charge and slipped the safety on before taking the new power pack out again. "And this one?" Amarell's lightsaber.  
  
"I guess." Varielle smiled, picked it up without checking its function and after a moment's thought slipped it into a pocket, as her belt had no loops suitable to hang it from. She had to bite back the urge to throw it away, as if it would somehow bring Amarell back to life.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Varielle jerked. "This… it was my teacher's. He… he gave it to me. Then he ordered me to run. To leave him to die."  
  
"And you did?"  
  
"Yes. I did not want to."  
  
"Daniel said he was your father."  
  
"Not by blood. By - how you say? He look - looked - after me." A language problem or realization of reality, Sam wondered.  
  
"He adopted you."  
  
"Yes. He had six children, all older. It was… awkward."  
  
"My father and I didn't get on well either."  
  
"What changed?" Something in her face shifted. "Carter?"  
  
"He was dying. Cancer. So he became a Tok'ra."  
  
"And you just sometimes wonder if that was a good thing."  
  
"Are you reading my mind?" She asked a little hesitantly.  
  
"Your feelings," Varielle said. "I don't think I can not do it. When I'm not tired, I can stop."  
  
"Oh. What's it like?"  
  
"Depressing."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Most people spend their lives being unhappy." She shook her head. "That is my problem."  
  
"You still miss your father."   
  
"Very much." She looked away and wiped her hands on her trousers. "These are the records of my team?"  
  
"I think so. How do you access your computer?"  
  
Varielle walked over and typed in her password. "You don't," she said. "You tried to type in a password?" The vulnerability of a few moments before had vanished without trace.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"If you enter the wrong code three times, the terminal locks up and permits no access without a hardware interface with the mainframe back home and specific authorisation codes. All our terminals were designed that way, so no one could access our databases by trying until the right combination was found."  
  
"Oh. I didn't know that."  
  
"You could have punched in codes until you died of old age and gotten no further. It was meant to be so."  
  
"But everything's still on there?"  
  
"Yes, but I cannot access it here. Nor can I access these datacards." She tapped them. "I must take them home. How soon can I depart?"  
  
"You'd have to ask General Hammond."  
  
"I shall. May I take these? It will save time if I pack now."  
  
"Alright. If he lets you leave, I'll give you your… blaster." Varielle nodded.   
  
"Where is General Hammond now?"  
  
"He's debriefing SG-10. They just got back from a mission."  
  
"I can wait. That man works too hard."  
  
"I… suppose."  
  
"The good officers usually do."  
  
"I…"  
  
"Which is why you're looking exhausted."  
  
"Er…"  
  
"When did you last eat? Sleep? Go home? Read a book and listen to music and relax? You need to… how do you say it, get a life."  
  
"Colonel O'Neill keeps telling me that."  
  
"Perhaps, this once, he has found wisdom."  
  
Sam bit back a giggle. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"It will make you laugh."  
  
"Yes," she said uncomfortably.  
  
"Then my task here is done. Get some food and some sleep, Major." Varielle grinned a child's grin and whipped around the door with surprising speed for a girl with broken bones. 


	16. I will tell the truth

Chapter 16: I will tell the truth  
  
When Hammond went looking for Varielle, he found her once again in the infirmary chatting with Captain Marsters, with the aid of a computer, about biochemistry.   
  
"No," she shook her head. "This compound, you make from plants. We must synthesise it."  
  
"Well, you can genetically engineer for it…"  
  
Again she shook her head. "Our laws permit genetic alterations, but under certain conditions. It can take decades to get a permit for experimentation alone."  
  
"Really? Why?"  
  
"When the laws were made, other laws were in force, that meant rules were no different for microbes, plants or people. If one could be altered, all could, and if altering people goes wrong, rules of liability, compensation and control unclear. Was mess no one wanted to make, so laws made so strict, genetic engineering is never done frivolously. Once, before any laws made, there were people building their children to be so tall they do not fit through doors, or with purple hair, or extremely intelligent. Most genetic alterations have more failures than successes, and it cause - caused - problems."  
  
"Well, if you can't make that compound in quantity, there's… oh, sorry sir," he snapped to attention. "I didn't see you there."  
  
"At ease, Captain. I just dropped by to see how Miss Mizabwe is doing."  
  
"Better, thank you," she nodded politely. "I am well enough to go home and be no more of a burden on you."  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about that. Captain, could you give us a moment?"  
  
The Captain was a smart man and could take a hint; he took his laptop, nodded politely and went.  
  
"I wanted to ask you if you'd be coming back."  
  
"That depends on my superiors," she said. "They will decide. Superiors in many senses. General, my rank is little better than that of corporal. I cannot make politicians and admirals and great scientists do what I want. And to your people, I do not know what I want."  
  
"I've been instructed to ask for an alliance."  
  
"Seventeen of our people have died for your wars," she reminded him. "Nearly eighteen. One of your allies would have me become a science specimen in a jar; one of your own people with power and influence would do worse. Your national leader does not control his country strongly, and your planet has not been without war since humans were enough numerous to have them, even if it was not always on the television or in the newspaper." Hammond looked a little ashamed. "If we ally ourselves with you, we commit ourselves to sharing technology with you, our information, and our best soldiers, while making ourselves more of a target than we already are. Tell me truthfully, General Hammond, what can the people of Earth offer us that we need so badly?"  
  
Hammond had learned not to flounder visibly, but inside he was searching for answers. "Trade, perhaps."  
  
"Trade is not truly a concern of our government. It is the concern of the private businesses. But the trade will be in goods and services and tourism, not guns and bombs. You think our weapons are better; they are merely different. In terms of destruction, the Goa'uld ones are very effective, perhaps better than ours, and you have access to those through your own efforts, and through the Tok'ra. We do not need space to settle; we have plenty. We have enough spaceships. We have medicines, food, and now we have a Stargate. There is nothing material you can offer us that will make an alliance seem such a brilliant idea the talk will finish before I have grey hairs."  
  
"Nothing material, you said," he latched on to the last part. "What did you mean by that?"  
  
"Alliance is one thing, friendship another," she said. "But I cannot speak for the leaders of my people. It will be their choice."  
  
"They will judge us on your report."  
  
"General, I cannot lie by omission. I will not be allowed to. On something this important, I will be facing a number of people to whom I must tell all the truth. Then they will start to judge."  
  
"How many people do you have to talk to?"  
  
"There is - what would you say, a military tribunal - I must account for the dead soldiers and speak of how they fought, and that will be long. They will wish to know of the Goa'uld and Jaffa, what they are capable of, and of your own people. The scientists will wish to learn all they can of both that world we never named, and this one. The doctors will wish to examine me. The Jedi will have their own hearings, where I must answer for the death of my teacher. There will most likely be politicians as well to speak to, and news people, then I must also see the families of the dead and tell them how my team died. I am the sole survivor; it is my duty." Her voice was flat and expressionless, but her face fore-spoke how harrowing it would be. "Then there will be people to whom I must teach English, if I can, and other things - smaller ones, like accounting for lost equipment. That will take time, especially the language teaching. Also, my people love to talk. A final decision on even opening negotiations will rest with politicians, not soldiers or Jedi or scientists, and no quick decision will be made."  
  
"Is there nothing we can do to help?"  
  
"I would like to take some books back with me. A dictionary, to start. It will help."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"I must go home alone. We have our own defensive systems, not like your iris, but effective. My team has not reported and will be presumed dead. If anyone comes back with me, they will be killed before I have time to tell them not to shoot."  
  
"You could radio through a signal."  
  
"They would shoot anyway. No one cannot be broken, not even Jedi." She said it matter-of-factly. "Or controlled, or drugged, or the voice imitated. We know, when we leave, that our lives will not be valued above that of the safety of our people."  
  
"I wouldn't like to serve in a place like that. We look after our own."  
  
"As do we. But for you, 'our own' has many meanings. It can mean everyone, or just Americans, or just soldiers, or just people you command. For us, it means all. All our people. Not just soldiers, or our friends. The farmers and shop-keepers and builders and children and old people have the explorers outnumbered. We serve to protect them, not to be exalted above them." She shook her head.  
  
"So you're saying there's nothing you can do?"  
  
"I shall tell the truth, General. And I give you my word that I will cause your people no harm that I can prevent. I will not willingly endanger the lives of those who have helped me, or who have done nothing to me." She slid across the bed to stand firmly on the ground. "We should leave now."  
  
"You want to leave now? I can… hey!" She grabbed his elbow and towed him out. "What are you doing?"  
  
"If those men coming down the hall in armour, thick boots and with very big guns are here to take my temperature, I shall eat my own boots."  
  
"I don't think you'll need to," they zigged down a side corridor. "Doctor Jackson!" General Hammond hailed the wandering archaeologist. "This way, please."  
  
"I was just on my way to see you," he said. "I've been, ah, going back over my notes of your language…"  
  
"It'll have to wait, doctor," Hammond said. "We've got problems… yes, Colonel Samuels, what is it?"  
  
The brown-haired young man waiting in the passage-way saluted. "General, we're here on orders from the Pentagon…"  
  
Varielle had gone rigid, scared as a deer in headlights. 


	17. It's so tacky

Chapter 17: It's so tacky  
  
"Now would be a good time to do something," Daniel whispered in her ear in an atrocious imitation of her native language. She nearly jumped. "Just… distract them," he added in English, his lips less than an inch from her ear. She gently reached into the Force and set to work, delicately clouding Samuels' mind.  
  
"The other NID guys are coming…"  
  
"I know. Be quiet." She concentrated until she could feel her brain hurting, knowing it was wrong. Using the Force wasn't supposed to be an effort.  
  
"You can do it," warm hands on one arm. "Relax." She shuddered - and everything clicked.  
  
"Now," she said. "Run."  
  
They ran so close to Samuels she could have given him a haircut. "How do we get down to the gate level?"  
  
"Down here. It's a service stair."  
  
"Say what?" She slid down the handrails like a fireman.  
  
"Used by the cleaners."  
  
"Oh. Right." It was deserted. "It doesn't go all the way down?"  
  
"No, not to the bottom floor. We'll have to…" She yanked him back.   
  
"They're there."  
  
"You can tell?"  
  
"They are jumpy, and hostile, and scared and that's easy to feel. Where is the gate room from here? In a straight line?"  
  
"I'm… not sure. We're above a storage room…"  
  
"They're not in the gate room," she said, stretching her mind gently and her voice dropping. "Yet. This room here…" She ducked in.   
  
"The occupant must be out."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Good?"  
  
Varielle pulled out her lightsaber. "I once swore I'd never do this," she said in her native language, carefully cutting a circle in the floor. "It's so tacky, not to mention destructive." She kicked the circle of concrete and it fell with a huge clang.  
  
"Forgot the noise," she grimaced, dropping. "Come on."  
  
"What can we do…" Before his eyes, the concrete was floating, levitating upwards. He said nothing, staring at Varielle. Her face seemed filled with a quiet, radiant peace.  
  
"Put some boxes under it," he said softly, not wanting to disturb her. "Then they can't follow us." A stack of crates moved themselves over to hold the concrete plug up.   
  
"Now, we run," she said, thundering down to the embarkation room. Daniel headed into the control room. She swore, then turned to follow him and caught his elbow.  
  
"There's only four of them," she said softly. "Let me."  
  
"There's six in the gate room."  
  
"Shut up and let me concentrate. You do realise you'll be in huge trouble for this."  
  
"It's the right thing to do."  
  
"Definitely like Janama. She always did exactly what she believed was right as well. I sometimes wonder how she and Amarell ever got married." She closed her eyes and focused, slipping into a light trance almost without realising.  
  
She genuinely didn't want to hurt anyone; that made it all the harder. Minds were so different from chemicals, they changed on their own unpredictably, twisted and writhed in the most delicate and most crushing of mental grips… a curious reflection on people, and Varielle bit back the urge to giggle.  
  
Everyone in both rooms slumped over.  
  
"I'll get the gate started, send you to a safe planet. You can go on from there to… Varielle?" Her legs had given out as she slid down the wall. Her slender energy reserves were gone. "Varielle!"  
  
"Just… tired," she said softly. "Very tired." She fell forward a little and tried to push herself up. "I… I can…"  
  
"You can't," he lifted her up. "You're heavy."  
  
"Sorry," she wheezed as they headed downstairs. She concentrated on walking, letting him take the weight. "Didn't know… thought I had more in me… damn." The last came out with venom as they walked past slumped troopers and up the ramp. She leaned hard on the handrail.  
  
"Doctor Jackson!"  
  
"Shit," she said in her language as the NID rushed into the control room and grabbed the mike.  
  
"No," she shook her head. "Daniel, will you be alright?"  
  
"You're worried about me? They want to kidnap you, and you're worried about me?"  
  
"Yes," she forced herself to stand straight, even if it took both hands to do it. "And don't tell me you will be fine. You will be lying."  
  
General Hammond was trying to get the trigger-happy airmen to hold their fire, but one didn't listen. Varielle slumped as the tranquilliser dart over-rode her will to stay awake.  
  
"Get away from her, Doctor!" One officer shouted as Daniel dropped to his knees, holding her up by the arm-pits.  
  
"Varielle?" Her eyes were darkening and her eyelids drooping. "Varielle!"  
  
Her fingers struggled to grip the mesh of the ramp. Someone yelled that if he didn't step away, they would fire.  
  
In fine dramatic style, Daniel leaned sideways and tipped both of them into the waiting wormhole. 


	18. Well, that went well

Chapter 18: Well, that went well  
  
"Well, that went well," Jack remarked with bitter sarcasm as soon as he was calm enough not to kill something. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"  
  
"We had our orders…" this one was a Lieutenant-General. "And they came from the top…"  
  
"So did mine, General," Major-General Hammond informed him. "Mine came from the President. Standing orders regarding the rights of humans in this base. One of which is that kidnapping them is a crime."  
  
"And what she did to your people is not a crime?"  
  
"She didn't hurt us, sir," Seargent Siler said. "She could have."  
  
"And she collapsed afterwards," Carter said. "Whatever she did, she's exhausted."  
  
"Worm-hole established, sir," Lieutenant Simmons had somehow managed to keep working with the brass arguing behind him. "With your permission…"  
  
"Rescue team, you're clear to go." SG-7 moved out at top speed.  
  
"What are their orders?" General Hamilton asked.  
  
"To find Doctor Jackson and Varielle Mizabwe and bring them back peacefully if they can. They only defend themselves if fired upon first."  
  
"What if she attacks them or renders them…"  
  
"Sir, we're getting a transmission."  
  
"Sir, this is Major Hernandez. There's no trace of Doctor Jackson or the alien. From the tracks he just dialled straight out again. We've got no way to know where." Sighs and muttered curses echoed for a moment.  
  
"He's trying to keep her safe," Carter said. "He probably thinks it's the Tollan all over again."  
  
"And he's right," Hammond said. "She told me that when she got home she would tell her people about us. I asked her if it would be a favourable report. She said she would tell the truth, and not withhold information. Your illegal and unethical actions may have just lost us a valuable alliance, General."  
  
"Not to mention pissing off an entire race," O'Neill added. "Mine, for starters…"  
  
"Colonel," Hammond brought him to silence. "Where would Doctor Jackson take her?"  
  
"Well, if she's ill or exhausted, they can't just camp out in those clothes and without anything to eat or drink," Carter said. "He knows more Stargate addresses than anyone else on the base, but he'd still need to go somewhere warm with food and water and no Goa'uld or Jaffa. That narrows it down a lot. I can get on the computer, put together a list of possible places to hide…"  
  
"If Varielle Mizabwe is awake she may be able to give him a new location," Teal'c said. "Her people found several other Stargates they could reach, and she never said where they were. It is possible she would suggest one as a safe location."  
  
"Perhaps her people have an off-world base," Siler said. "Like our Alpha Site."  
  
"Make that list, Major," Hammond said brusquely. "Colonel, please reset all our codes. General…" A less dignified man would have grabbed Hamilton by the collar and towed him along like an unruly schoolboy. Hammond used force of personality alone. "You and I are going to talk. After I talk to the President. I don't think he'll be very happy."  
  
Carter looked up at O'Neill. "You think Daniel's alright?"  
  
"I don't think she's in any state to manipulate him," Jack said.  
  
"You think she coerced him into helping her? Sir, you know Daniel as well as I do. He'd have helped her because it was right."  
  
"Yeah." He sighed. "I hope he's alright. I hope he's got the sense to call home. He's got no GDO."  
  
"He'll think of something. There's the new Alpha Site, the Tok'ra, the Tollan…"  
  
"He should be fine," Jack's stomach tightened. "We hope." 


	19. Please don't pry

Chapter 19: Please don't pry  
  
Varielle awoke wrapped in blankets. Wherever she was, she was warm, comfortable and desperately hungry.  
  
She poked her head out of the cocoon. Daniel was dozing against a wall decorated with the peculiar glyphs of the Goa'uld he had shown her. For a moment she reached for Amarell's lightsaber and wished she had her blaster, then relaxed. If it was truly a dangerous place, she would not be here and he would be awake, or in prison.  
  
She looked around, but saw nothing she recognised as food. Reaching out with the Force, she realised they were some way from the Stargate - probably as far as he could drag her without hurting her or himself - and in a very extensive building with no life except plants and animals. And to one side there was a crude clay pot filled with water and some kind of edible fruit. She could have eaten three times the amount, but firmly restricted herself to half, eaten slowly to cushion a stomach empty for over a day.  
  
"Mmmph," Daniel muttered, head thrashing from side to side. "Nooo…"  
  
Reaching out with the Force, she felt his fear and despair in his dreams. She shook his shoulder gently.  
  
"Hey," she said. "It is only a dream."  
  
"No," he shook his head. "It wasn't."  
  
"It was the past," she said as gently as she could, hoping he'd see the understanding in her face. "The past can always hurt, but it is past, and no more real than any dream."   
  
He shook his head and rubbed his face. "Who was she?" Varielle asked. "The woman in your dream, with dark hair."  
  
"Please don't pry."  
  
"I will never speak of it if you do not wish me to," she promised. "But I wanted to know if it would be a good idea to wake you, or not."  
  
"Why wouldn't it be?"  
  
She decided to make him laugh. "When we are students, we share rooms with others. Sometimes different species, different genders. One room-mate I had, he was a little older than me, and human. He sounded like you did in your dream one night, so I woke him. He asked if I could not have let him sleep; he doubted that he would find girls like that anywhere in real life."  
  
He looked at her perfectly sincere face. "You're trying to make me feel better."  
  
"I'm trying to make you laugh. You are too serious, Daniel. There are times for that, and there are times you can be alive and like it. You have lost that."  
  
"I was dead."  
  
"Before you were dead. But you had happiness with that woman. And you lost it."  
  
"Her name was Sha're. She was my wife."  
  
"You loved her very much." It wasn't a question. "I remember how Amarell felt when Janama died. Like he would never be whole again. Even when he died, he did not feel whole again."  
  
Daniel nodded slowly. "Can you get home?"  
  
"From here? I think so. Can you?"  
  
"I can manage something."  
  
"Will you give me a few hours to see what I can arrange? Perhaps I can get them to treat you as a visiting ambassador or something." She hunted for words. "You risked your career for me. Perhaps your life. I owe you."  
  
"That wasn't why I did it."  
  
"And for that I owe you the more." She sighed. "It's a shame you don't have the talent. You would make the kind of Jedi who comes once in ten generations if we're lucky."  
  
"I'll take that as a compliment."  
  
"It is. Eat. Drink. Go back to sleep. I have to go home. I'll send someone to see you. What is the address here, and how long before your friends find you?"  
  
"They won't. We gated to one planet from Earth, then came here." He saw her look around. "It used to be a Goa'uld pleasure palace."  
  
She burst out in gales of laughter.  
  
"What? What's so funny?"  
  
"Of all the places," she gasped. "Villages, caves, cities, ships - and you bring me to an old brothel?"  
  
He wasn't sure of the humour, but was laughing anyway. 


	20. Welcome back

Chapter 20: Welcome back  
  
Varielle walked back through the Stargate. She had changed into a kind of brown over-robe and a matching pair of creamy shirt and trousers. Daniel noted she had blasters at hip and boot. "You'd better hurry up," she looked drained. "I had to talk very fast."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"So they wouldn't have time to argue much. Is there anything here you need?"  
  
"Uh, no. I'll just leave a note…"   
  
"May I see?"  
  
He extended it. "Just letting Jack know we're both alive and alright. They'll worry."  
  
"They may not come here."  
  
"We have an off-world base. I was going to toss it through there. And if you don't mind…"  
  
"You'd rather not let me know the address? Well, I would rather not let you know ours…"  
  
"I'll keep my eyes shut if you will."  
  
"Fair enough." She closed her eyes and stared pointedly at the ceiling through her eyelids.   
  
She heard the Stargate start up and dial, and resisted the urge to use the Force to track Daniel's movements. That wasn't fair.  
  
After a moment the room fell silent and they swapped places. Varielle recalled the sequence and dialled.  
  
"Brace yourself," she said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Our gravity's a bit heavier, remember? And the oxygen is thinner. For the first few minutes you'll feel terrible."  
  
"Thank you for warning me."  
  
"Sarcasm doesn't become you," she said, "but you are very good at it."  
  
"Too much time around Jack."  
  
"Too much time around pain, I would have said," she remarked. "You are not the vicious type."  
  
"How is you always know what will affect me the most and manage to say it?"  
  
"It's what I do," she sighed. "I was always told it's a gift, to see inside people like that. Sometimes I like it."  
  
"And sometimes?"  
  
"I wish I could give it back." She stepped into the blue event horizon and felt the familiar cold envelop her muscles.  
  
He stepped through after her.  
  
He blinked in the bright white lights.  
  
"I should have warned you," Varielle apologised. "We like to see what's going on."  
  
"Varielle!" A leggy man with chestnut hair, a bushy moustache and an ill-fitting uniform loped over. "Welcome back." Behind him the soldiers in armour carefully slung their weapons, but didn't lose one iota of alertness.  
  
Varielle and Daniel both switched languages. "Daniel, this is my almost-brother Lieutenant Simarell Cordenn. He's a sniper." She had to translate that term. "Among other things. Arell, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson. He's a specialist in archaeology and languages, but spends a lot of his time being diplomatic when no one else does." They greeted as politely as the difference in language and custom allowed.  
  
"Was my sister telling the truth when she said she was alright?" He demanded.  
  
"She needs a lot of rest," Daniel said firmly.  
  
"I'll see she gets it," he said. "Varielle, you were holding out on me."  
  
"I'm fine," she insisted.  
  
"No, you're not," both of them said at once.  
  
"Lieutenant," a voice behind them interrupted. "Jedi Mizabwe."  
  
Both snapped to attention, in Varielle's case with a hastily hidden wince of pain.  
  
"Admiral," they both said politely. Introductions were once again performed. Admiral Filitova Sadderve greeted the new arrival with brusque cordiality.   
  
"Welcome to the Second Republic," she said. "I arranged some quarters and food for you. Varielle said you're trustworthy, and I have yet to find her wrong about peoples' characters. Lieutenant, sort him out and start learning his language. Mizabwe, the Board is waiting."  
  
"What Board?" Daniel asked.  
  
"We also have Boards of Inquiry," Varielle said. "My team is dead. They want answers. No matter how I say it, the last twelve days are going to sound like a bad childrens' story."  
  
"I agree," Sadderve said. "I'll be there to mediate. Good luck, young lady. Lieutenant, why are you still here?"  
  
"Because Daniel hasn't left yet. Daniel, go with my brother; he'll look after you."  
  
"Will you be alright?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're lying."  
  
"It has to be done and it has to be me and no one can help. Go."  
  
The admiral looked over her shoulder, then up at the tall leggy girl beside her. "Woman to woman?" she said, lowering a barrier few even realised was there.  
  
"Yes, I like him. No, he's not married. And it would be a very, very bad idea, not to mention the fact that he just risked losing his entire career because he believed helping me was right and I don't know how to thank him much less repay him."   
  
"And you're as wrapped in duty as ever."  
  
"So are you, or should I bring up Elliotte?"  
  
"I hadn't missed that."  
  
"Missed what?"  
  
"Missed how you find everyone's weak points."  
  
"Why do you think I have no friends?" 


	21. Will they let me go home?

Chapter 21: Will they let me go home?  
  
"This is yours," the Lieutenant said. It was a one-room cabin. "I know it's not much, but everywhere else is full. A lot of people want to talk to my sister about our team."  
  
"Will she be in trouble?" Daniel asked, sitting down.  
  
"I don't know," he finally answered. "I hope not. Uh, can I get you something to eat? Some clothes?"  
  
Daniel looked down at his grubby military-issue garb, not enhanced in the least by sleeping on the floor in them. "Yes, if it's not any trouble," he had to work at that sentence. "And a chance to wash?"  
  
"Water's rationed. You can have a vibe shower." That took more talk. Daniel nodded.  
  
"Look, is Varielle…"  
  
"I don't know. It depends on the officers. There's other boards…" He shook his head. "She lived, they didn't. It doesn't look good. It doesn't help that she never shuts up."  
  
"Yes, she does."  
  
"She always needles people."  
  
"So do I."  
  
"You're a perfect match." He shook his head. "I'm… sorry about my father."  
  
"You don't sound too upset," Daniel said hesitantly.  
  
"We weren't close. He tried, but…" Simarell shrugged. "Then Mother died and the family just sort of… fell apart. If Varielle hadn't been there I doubt we'd be talking at all."  
  
"She was the peacemaker?"  
  
"More like the nagging daughter. She wouldn't stop prodding us to talk. Even if we just send letters once a season or something. She'll make sure we all get together for the memorial service."  
  
"You wouldn't come without her?"  
  
"Probably not," he admitted. "I'll go and let you get changed. If we hurry we can still get something hot to eat in the mess. I missed dinner."  
  
Daniel looked around. "I guess I expected to be on a planet."  
  
"We moved everything up here a few years ago," Simarell said. "The science types were worried about diseases and so on. There are very strict quarantine procedures. I'd better warn you, our medical people are going to need to run all sorts of tests on you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Nothing they don't run on our own people," Simarell hastily said. "Just… not usually all at once."  
  
"Right," he sighed. "But - will they let me go home?"  
  
"If they don't it's kidnapping," he said briskly. "Even if the military want to, the Jedi won't stand for it. My sister… have you ever seen her angry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I have. I never want to again."  
  
"What is this?" Daniel regarded a blue jelly-like substance.  
  
"Mynock soup."  
  
"It looks like Jell-O." He bit it thoughtfully. "Tastes like it too."  
  
"What's Jell-O?" 


	22. It wasn't her fault

Chapter 22: It's not her fault  
  
While Daniel was sleeping, Varielle was talking. And talking. And talking. After about twelve hours Doctor Virrenna finally barged in.  
  
"This is beyond enough," he said. "Right now I'm using my medical veto. You will not pester this young lady for a minimum of three days; we have tests to run and she needs sleep very very badly. Varielle, how much sleep have you had in the last ten days? Not counting a healing trance."   
  
She had to stop and work it out. "About two hours a night, average."  
  
"See? Right. You vultures, scarper. Go on. Beat it. Shoo. Depart. Now!" It was like watching birds scatter before a lumbering ground animal.  
  
"Thank you very much," Varielle said.  
  
"They've got no bloody right to keep you standing that long. You should have been in a hospital bed hours ago. Come on, scram! We'll get you down for a nap while we do the blood-work. We've already started on your friend."  
  
"Oh, no, who translated?"  
  
"He's managing."  
  
"I'd better talk to him."  
  
"Didn't you just hear me? I said you need to sleep."  
  
"I should explain things to him first."  
  
"No way."  
  
"Yes, I… oh, dear."  
  
"What's wrong? He's cooperating…"  
  
"And looks as miserable as a drowned kitten. Excuse me." She walked intently over to Daniel, sitting forlornly on a hospital bed. "Did my brother leave you alone here?"  
  
"He had duties."  
  
"When the Admiral tells you to get someone settled, that's a duty. I'll talk to him later. Are you alright?"  
  
"I'm not sure what they want," he admitted.   
  
Varielle looked at the waiting doctor expectantly. The doctor explained.  
  
"They need a urine sample," Varielle said.  
  
"What on Earth for?"  
  
"I'm almost afraid to ask." She swapped languages. "What do you use the urine sample for?"  
  
"To, ah, check for drugs…"  
  
"You think he's high?"  
  
"No! To look for chemicals, to analyse…"  
  
"Is it anything you can't get from the blood samples?"  
  
"No, but…"  
  
"Then don't. He's essentially an ambassador to a foreign power. Don't make him piss in a cup, alright? Anything else? No. Good. Scarper." The doctor scarpered.  
  
Doctor Virrenna shook his head. "That doesn't get you off the hook, you know."  
  
"I know. When do the Jedi get here?"  
  
"In six hours, but…"  
  
"Then I'll be up in five. And don't you dare sedate me. I've got to be there to greet them. And here," she scrawled a message on a datapad as fast as she could. "Please make sure the Admiral gets this," she said to one of the guards. "Preferably within the hour."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Now, will someone tell me who told you to jump like crickets when I say jump?" She said, hands on her hips. "Normally I get about as much authority as a week-dead haddock."  
  
Looks were exchanged. No one said anything.   
  
"Maybe it's your good looks," Virrenna said and it was clear he was joking.  
  
"Virrenna…"  
  
"Look, it's…" The doctor sighed. "You were a Paduin before, just a student, an apprentice. Now you're the only survivor of our best team. Everyone's jumpy."  
  
"What, they think it was my fault?"  
  
"No… well, yes. Some of them. But…"  
  
Varielle turned away. "Forget I asked." She lay down on the bed, facing the wall, and was dead to the world in an instant.  
  
"It wasn't her fault," Daniel said softly. "She lost her father. Don't ever tell her that it was her fault." 


	23. Have a little compassion

Chapter 23: Have a little compassion  
  
Varielle bounced to her feet almost instantly as she came out of her healing trance to mend the remaining fractures in her bones. She felt like the fatigue under her skin, settling all through her body. She knew she would need to sleep, properly, and soon.  
  
Virrenna came in while she was pulling on her boots. "Where do you think you're going?"  
  
"To whichever shuttle bay the Jedi are docking at."  
  
"Good luck finding where. Now sit down."  
  
She closed her eyes, settled herself and extended her mind through the Force, feeling for the shuttle bay bustling with activity. "Bay twelve."  
  
"How'd you know that?"  
  
"I'm a Jedi. Work it out." She reached for her lightsaber. "I'll be fine."  
  
"You are not fine, you're at the ragged edge of exhaustion."  
  
"Fine. I'll sleep later, when there's time." She walked out the door.  
  
Virrenna ran after her. "Look," he said intently, "You're hurt, hungry and exhausted. Don't do this."  
  
"Don't have much choice, Virrenna. I'll be back, don't worry about it." She hurried out the door and down the hall. Her attire drew few looks, but many gave her a startled second look upon recognising her face. Evidently word had spread through the ship about her arrival and adventures.  
  
She could feel the tension as the shuttle docked; she was just in time. The four robed Jedi swept majestically down the ramp, in contrast to her own jerky movements through the halls. "Master Yeren," she greeted her. "Master Darisole. Master Kingdon. Master Afi'arar." The Bothan nodded politely to her, fur ruffling slightly.   
  
"Welcome home, Paduin Mizabwe," he intoned. "I was sorry to hear about Amarell's death."  
  
"That's what we're here to investigate," Yeren rocked back on her heels. The tiny dark-haired woman looked a tenth her true age, and for all her size few would cross her in combat. "You have his lightsaber."  
  
"He told me to take it. He knew he was going to die." Varielle forced her face and voice to calmness, and hated herself for it. It was like saying she shouldn't be mourning him. "There are some things you will need to hear, and not just about his death."  
  
"Alright, Paduin. Lead on. And can we get something to eat?"  
  
"I'll ask someone to send some food up. It won't be very good."  
  
"Doesn't need to be," she said brusquely. "But I would like to hear about this 'alien' I get rumours of."  
  
"We ran into more than one group out there," she said. "I'm not sure any of them are truly friendly. They don't know where we are, though. None of us told them anything."  
  
"You're sure, Paduin?"  
  
"None of us had time. They all died too fast. And I ran. Master Cordenn told me to, to warn our people."  
  
"How many aliens are we talking about here?"  
  
"In the group that attacked us? A few hundred, perhaps, but there are many more out there. Into the billions, I would say, though they're not unified. The group that - I suppose you could say they helped me - there's six billion or so of them, but again, not unified. There's many more out there they know of as well. One of the second group came back with me. It's going to be a long day."  
  
"Do you think they'd be good allies?"  
  
"No."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. I'll tell you when we get to the conference room. It'll take me a couple of hours to recount everything."  
  
"What about this alien?"  
  
"He's sleeping. The Admiral assigned him a cabin. He's still learning our language."  
  
"You picked up theirs like we hoped you would?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Does this alien have a name?"  
  
"Daniel Jackson. They have the same custom we do of an individual and family name. He's very good at languages. Better than I'd be if I weren't a Jedi."  
  
"That good?"  
  
"Better. I think he must be one of their best."  
  
"You're one of our best at languages."  
  
"I can talk to him in his language and make myself understood," she allowed. "I know I'm not perfect at it. Not even close."  
  
"Do they pose any immediate threat to us?" Darisole asked.  
  
"No, sir. They don't know how to find us."  
  
"How many destinations can the Ring have?"  
  
"Apparently it's called a Stargate, and lots. They know of several thousand already, and they're finding more all the time."  
  
"Several thousand? How did they build this system… ah. They didn't."  
  
"Yes. Apparently it was built about three quarters of a million years ago, by a race they know only as the Ancient Ones. Daniel says he can read the Ancients' language and knows how it's supposed to be spoken, although he didn't say how he'd learned that. Evidently the species isn't around anymore. He didn't tell me what happened to them."  
  
"You didn't ask?"  
  
"I was more interested in learning how his people worked at the time, their command structure and technology level. One thing I can say, they've only recently learned how to make energy weapons and the use is definitely not wide-spread. But their projectile weapons, especially at the hand-held level, are better than any of ours. They've really refined the principle."  
  
"How about science?"  
  
"Behind us, but advancing. They have very good computers, at least the places I saw, and they have space travel, but they're very much still developing that. The Stargate system is their main form of interstellar transport. Mostly they're confined to one planet."  
  
"How about their laws?"  
  
"Slavery is illegal, sexes are equal, they have the right of free worship. Since there's only one sentient race on their planet they don't have any laws one way or the other about species discrimination. A lot of the rest varies, or I don't know enough about it to be certain. It's not something I really delved into; I didn't have time."  
  
"We can wait for this Daniel Jackson to wake up?"  
  
"Yes. It's been a long few days."  
  
"Longer for you," Yeren said. "How much have you slept since Cordenn died? Not in a healing trance, but slept?"  
  
"Um…" She had to pause and think. "Maybe twenty hours, total."  
  
"In how many days?"  
  
"About ten or twelve."  
  
"We'll make this short, then."  
  
"But Yeren…"   
  
She waved a hand and Kingdon shut up. "We'll make this short. Have a little compassion, it would become a Jedi of your rank." 


	24. How the Force works

Chapter 24: How the Force works  
  
When Daniel woke, Varielle was gone. He asked where she was.  
  
"In a meeting," he was told. After a meal, a change of clothes and three hours of talk, he managed to find out she was just coming down to the mess hall for a meal.  
  
"You look terrible," he told her.   
  
"I just talked to the Jedi. They sent some people."  
  
"Bad?"  
  
"They knew Amarell, Daniel. They wanted to know how he died. I had to live that over and over. He was my father. Of course it was bad."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"So'm I." She bit her food savagely. "Can we please talk about something else?"   
  
"Um. Did you change your hair?" It was one neat braid instead of a pony-tail.  
  
"That other hair-style is the mark of an apprentice. It's tradition."  
  
"They gave you a promotion?"  
  
"You could say that. I don't feel I've earned it. It's like I get it as compensation for losing my father. I'd rather have him back." She threw her hair angrily over her shoulder.  
  
"That's the way of the military," he said.  
  
"Jedi aren't military. We're peacekeepers."  
  
"You never explained exactly how it all works."  
  
"How all what works?"  
  
"What you can do. You just said something about Talent."  
  
"Did I? Yes, I did. Then let's finish eating and go talk. You'll need to understand."  
  
"Where should we talk?"  
  
"Ships' library is as good a place as any. It's quiet, especially this time of day."  
  
They headed down. "No books?"  
  
"No space." She handed him a piece of glass-like plastic. "That's a standard textbook on electronics." She could hold it in one hand without the edges peeping out. "Nice, huh? We don't go in for paper books much. These are more durable and far more compact." She put it back in the rack. "There are alcoves at the back for study, behind the maintenance manuals."  
  
"You know this place well?"  
  
"I've spent a lot of time in libraries over the years."  
  
"Studying science?"  
  
"And law. I figured I'd go for a position as a court arbitrator. Or maybe mediator is the better term in English. I'm not a very good Jedi. Not strong."  
  
"Why not? Isn't being able to do that to people… plus that bit of concrete…" She was shaking her head as she took her seat with youthful ease.  
  
"I suppose I should start at the beginning. Where I started when I was seven."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"What gives us the abilities we have. You want the standard explanation or the scientific one first?"  
  
"Standard."  
  
"The closest translation, I think, is simply 'Force'. The Force. That's the way we speak of it. Story goes it's an energy field present in all living things. Surrounds us, penetrates us, binds the universe together. There's a whole speech we all get, but that's the basics. Jedi learn to feel it, and to use it. Scientific version - it's something that's out there. We perceive it in different ways, and if we can perceive it we can use it for various things. There's proof of this - differences in brain patterns, slightly altered blood chemistry in some species - not humans - and of course the physical effects we cause. To the layman - is that the right word? - it might as well be an inherent ability, because the ability to use the Force isn't something you just acquire. You have the potential, or you don't. It can be developed, but it has to be there to start with, and we can sense it in other people if we really try."  
  
"Can it be measured?"  
  
"Only by people. Not instruments. That's one reason why being a Jedi usually comes with a lot of religion. Or any Force-user. The Jedi aren't the only ones; back in our galaxy there were others, and some were altruistic and some were sadistic and some were neutral and some were just strange. The Jedi were the oldest, the most numerous, the most welcome and the only one that came with us here. There are still individuals or small groups of others, but no real tradition."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"It's kind of hard to explain. Laws about how the Force can be used apply to all - but the Jedi have options others don't have. We can be investigators, judges, scientists, researchers, historians, a lot of things. We have legal status - and legal obligations. Not to mention our own internal rules. We're expected to be - well, honest, trustworthy, honourable. Protectors and guardians of the helpless and the downtrodden. I could go on for ages on that vein. But that's not what you're after, is it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Hmmm. Look, I differ a lot from the other Jedi. Maybe because I had such a strange upbringing, or an unconventional teacher. I accept it's there, I accept what it does. I don't accept the mystical explanations like a god or something like that. As for what it does…" She sighed and leaned back. "It's really hard to explain."  
  
"Try anyway."  
  
"Well," she frowned, hunting for words. "Using it to move things is a basic skill. You sort of extend your awareness of the universe in general out to the object and want it to move - anyone can do that - but if you can use the Force, you might be able to make it move. I'm not sure how to explain that part. It's like some people can raise one eyebrow at a time and others can't. There's this little mental feel, a click or something, like when you learn to do mental arithmetic or learning to swim. Once you've found it you never quite lose it. Some people who are really strong don't even need to learn to do that, they just want it to happen and it does. That's rare, but it happens."   
  
"When you said 'extending awareness'…"  
  
"Eyesight works fine," she assured him. "Or something you're touching. I'm unusual that way, I can move things I can't see. Things in another room, or a distance away. Most Jedi can't. But then, most Jedi can shift more mass than I can, and for longer. That concrete plug was almost the heaviest thing I've ever shifted."  
  
"Right. And the minds…"  
  
"That's something I'm good at and most people aren't. When you become… aware of people the way I'd need to become aware of an item I can't see, to move it, you start to perceive emotions, surface thoughts. Manipulating them is difficult. It's skilled work, it takes a lot of control."  
  
"If you get it wrong, do you hurt them?"  
  
"Not often. It happens, sometimes. If we learn to do it, we learn on volunteers with very careful supervision, although we're not told in advance that's what happening. We only learn about how closely we get watched after we're trusted to work without it."  
  
"So you don't get dependant on knowing someone can help you?"  
  
"Exactly. Extracting something like the thought matrix of a language from a mind - that's how I think of it - is a incredibly rare ability. Most Jedi can't get further than basic emotions and thoughts of the moment. I can. It's a very valuable ability - but it also means I get trusted less than most Jedi. Jedi are expected, like I said, to be honourable, to be moral, but there's always temptation. We're supposed to be above reproach. There's very good reason Jedi can't hold political office without unanimous consent of the Senate in each case."  
  
"Is that all Jedi can do?"  
  
"No. Controlling our own bodies, to heal faster - some people can control other's bodies as well. I can, a little, but not much. It's hard, delicate. Ever wondered why I heal so fast?"  
  
"Those trances…"  
  
"Yeah. Ever wondered why I never asked what drugs I was being given?"  
  
"No, I didn't." He was surprised.  
  
"Because I can be aware of the drugs when they're still outside my body. Since I've studied so much biochemistry, I can tell what they are and what they do."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Lots. We can use it for extra strength and endurance; one reason we don't compete in sports contests with ordinary people. Remember how I ran back on that planet? I can't do that normally."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Oh, it does other things as well. Basically, knowledge. Throw a knife at a Jedi's back, odds are he'll duck before it gets there. Foreshadows of danger. Usually it's just something vague. Sometimes we see specific things before they happen, but we never know the consequences of interfering."  
  
"So the future isn't set?"  
  
"No. It can be changed. But - let me give you an example. If a Jedi saw that going to that forest-world would result in so many deaths, we might not have gone. Then we'd never know the Goa'uld were out there, and that could be catastrophic for us."  
  
"Is it usually that dramatic?"  
  
"No. Often we see small things, personal things. Almost every-day things. Sometimes we see the past, or the present. Sometimes it's not a vision at all, it's sounds, or smells, or symbols, or feelings on their own. I don't get those often. Some of us do. But if you ever watch Jedi in a fight, we have fast reflexes. In fights, we see what's going to happen before it actually does. Practice a bit, and it becomes automatic to react like that. And other Force-users as well. The basic rule of a Jedi is that we use the Force for knowledge and defence. Never attack."  
  
"Never?"  
  
"Never. We talk about the Dark Side of the Force - very old term, it's been translated through about six languages, that's why it sounds so dramatic. If you use that for attack, you can't stop using it. It's addictive, and it turns you… changes you." She shivered. "I've only seen one man who used it, when he was brought to the capital for trial. Seven Jedi stood guard over him, in shifts, to make sure he didn't try anything. He killed six of them one night. My father was the seventh. And he nearly died. That was after what he did before he was caught. That's the original reason the Jedi order was given recognition, status - so we could hunt down people like that."  
  
"And kill them?"  
  
"Often that's the only way to stop them. Nowadays we need a - a warrant?"  
  
"An order of execution."  
  
"Yes. Basically people like that are the bad guys. Most people don't ask questions."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"A lot of Jedi have ideas about good and evil, and of course they put themselves on the side of good. I'm not sure it's so simple. That's one reason my father was never on the Council. He agreed with me."  
  
"They like nice clear-cut solutions."  
  
"Yes. If you want to find the ones who don't believe in those, you have to look harder. Most of the Council are old, and our Republic has been peaceful, more or less, for generations. We don't often have to make tough decisions. The Council are still honourable, just a bit… out of touch, I suppose I could say."  
  
"I know what you mean," he said thoughtfully. "This talent…"  
  
"We sense it," she nodded. "Some are very good at it; I'm not. It sometimes runs in families and sometimes doesn't. And I didn't feel it in a single one of your people, which is surprising, or in any of those Jaffa. But there's maybe one in six thousand of us with the ability and less with enough to be worth training, so that's no guarantee you don't have it. And it's not limited to humans; we've got twelve species in the Republic and there are Jedi from all of them."  
  
"Why would you want to be a Jedi?" He finally asked.  
  
"When you - feel the Force, it can be incredible. Everything's more real, more wonderful, than ever. You can feel the stars burning. You know who you are and that you have a place in the universe. You can't not know. It's peaceful, and welcoming, and you can know someone more intimately than anyone who can't feel the Force can conceive of. That's why Amarell and Janama loved each other so much; they could feel it. Janama never had training, but still, they never had to question each other's love. They knew. You can form bonds with people through the Force, be aware of them all the time. Parents, children, brothers and sisters, lovers, friends."  
  
"Enemies?"  
  
She closed her eyes. "Sometimes. It's rare. And it's nasty. It's not all good. But I wouldn't be anything but a Jedi. I know I decry mysticism and all that, but when you feel the Force, when you touch it and let it pass over you and through you and you know it's there, it's better than coming home after a long way away. Wherever you are, you know you belong." 


	25. Diplomatic liaison

Chapter 25: Diplomatic liaison  
  
Daniel was just going back to his quarters to spend a bit more time reading the books Varielle had recommended - a grammar textbook, a simple history, a dictionary - when he was accosted by a tiny woman dressed like Varielle but who looked older and full of whipcord, Admiral Sadderve and a podgy Twi'lek he didn't know in what was obviously civilian dress. "Could we have a word, Doctor Jackson?" The short woman asked.  
  
"Certainly. I was just going to spend some time reading…"  
  
She glanced at the datacards. "Varielle picked a good place to start you off, I see. She's got sense. There's a conference room this way…"  
  
"Alright."  
  
"This is Edan Fu'ulknara," the admiral introduced him. "And Jedi Master Elmira Yeren. We've been talking about what to do about your people - the Tauri? Is that how you pronounce it?"  
  
"Yes, it is." He wondered what else to say.  
  
"Quite frankly, Doctor," Admiral Sadderve said, "we're not looking for alliances. I've been in communication with my superiors back home and there's a lot of political…"  
  
"Nonsense?" Yeren suggested. "Crap?"  
  
"Hush. Political decisions to be made, but I doubt we will go for a policy of isolation either. For one thing, all it takes is one survey ship finding one of our outposts and we're in trouble."  
  
"I'd agree," Daniel said sincerely. "My government would most likely be amenable to some kind of trade agreement…"  
  
"We'd like to start with information," Fu'ulknara said. "You know far more about the Rings than we do."  
  
"You mean the Stargates."  
  
"Is that your name for them?"  
  
"It's what the Ancients called them. They made the Stargates."  
  
"I don't suppose we could talk to them."  
  
"No. They… moved on."  
  
"Moved on how?"  
  
"They ceased being…" He hunted for a word. What was 'corporeal' in this strange Basic, as they called it? It was anything but basic. "I'm not sure what the word in your language is. We would say they ascended to a higher plane of existence, or died."  
  
"Dying isn't a higher plane of existence," Sadderve said. "Dead is dead."  
  
"Oh! No, I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. Some of them died. Some of them ascended. A few of them are still around, but they don't really concern themselves with our affairs."  
  
" 'Our' meaning…" Yeren hinted.  
  
"People in general. We're too young for them to really notice us. Too immature."  
  
She gave a harsh crack of laughter. "Oh, I can't wait to tell that to the Council."  
  
"It won't go down well," Fu'ulknara said.  
  
"They could use a little humbling," she said.   
  
"What we would really like to know," Sadderve said, "is if you'd be willing to serve as a diplomatic liaison until we've got more people trained in your language. Right now we've got all of two people who can speak both languages - you and Varielle. If the two of you work together in meetings to translate and mediate, it will be fairer than if just one of you does."  
  
"I could do that. I've done that sort of thing before. But I can't control what decisions are made."  
  
"Neither can Varielle," Yeren pointed out. "But I get the feeling that both of you have a lot of respect from people, if not true authority."  
  
"Now, Doctor Jackson, what do you think your people would be most interested in learning?" Fu'ulknara settled down to some serious talking. 


	26. Fighting blind

Chapter 26: Fighting blind  
  
"Varielle should be sleeping still," Yeren said. "Ah, Lieutenant Cordenn, do you know where Varielle is?"  
  
"I was just going to go get her for dinner," he said. "She went down to the gym to practice a bit."  
  
Yeren sighed. "I told her to sleep."  
  
"She did. Just not enough."  
  
Daniel rubbed his eyes. "She can't keep going forever."  
  
"No, but she does have a lot to do," Simarell sighed. "At least I can make sure she eats. It's this way. How'd the meeting go? With the other Jedi?"  
  
"She's a full Knight now. Your father made her that just before he died."   
  
"She never said that!" Even Daniel was surprised.  
  
"She didn't feel she'd earned it so she didn't claim it."  
  
"Sweet Maker but she can be stupid sometimes."  
  
"I'd have said stubborn," Daniel said.   
  
"And you're as bad as she is." The doors opened to reveal a number of people in exercise gear watching Varielle bouting with three men at once.  
  
She was moving with careless grace, each motion flowing and purposeful and effective. The three men were obviously very good at fighting, but she was holding her own. Even to Daniel's inexpert eye she was moving with uncanny speed and skill. He noticed several moves straight out of USAF basic training, and one he was certain was a Jaffa sequence. Did she learn it from Teal'c, or the Jaffa on 992?   
  
It wasn't until she sent one of the men flying clear across the room with one arm he realised she was fighting blindfolded. Yeren and Sadderve were commentating and the watchers were placing bets. To them, this was a spectacle, but nothing truly unusual.  
  
He was silent. 


	27. Are you happy right now?

Chapter 27: Are you happy right now?  
  
"Varielle?" Simarell knocked again. "Varielle?"  
  
"Come on in, Arell," she said. She was seated cross-legged on her bed, brushing her hair. It hung down to her waist except for a small tuft by one temple. "What's that from?" he brushed it with a finger.  
  
"I needed a tourniquet," she said.  
  
"And you used the braid?"  
  
"It was handy. I'd run out of other things short of ripping my sleeves off."  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You're not. You're admitting it. What's wrong? Was it the bout this afternoon, you shouldn't push so hard…" He saw her face and trailed off.  
  
"Partway through, Admiral Sadderve, Edan Fu'ulknara and Master Yeren came in."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Daniel was with them."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So I was beating three guys wearing a rag around my head so I couldn't see a thing, and the crew were taking bets. They acted like me being able to do that was normal."  
  
"Well, alright, you're a bit better than most people…"  
  
"It freaked him out."  
  
"Freaked who out?" She looked at him like he was an idiot, but it was overlaying misery.  
  
"You really like him, don't you?"  
  
"It's not mutual."  
  
"Varielle…"  
  
"Arell, I'm seventeen. We're supposed to have hopeless crushes at this age."  
  
"Hopeless?"  
  
"He's twice my age and if I don't get killed in combat I could live to be two hundred. He's got loyalties to his people and me to mine. He's been married and lost one wife in a war already."  
  
"Kids?"  
  
"No. And he's lost people, Arell. His parents, friends, his wife Sha're and I don't know how many homes. We've just lost our father, Arell, and I lost a bunch of my best friends. As if that weren't enough, he's started to understand what I can do when I put my mind to it and he's scared of me."  
  
"You're sure he was scared of you?"  
  
"He's scared of what I can do. He knows, in his head, that capacity doesn't equal intent, but he's still scared underneath. Just like he scares me."  
  
"He scares you?"  
  
"He's got the kind of moral sense that's above reproach. He doesn't know how to break. When it comes to right and wrong or sheer mule-headed stubbornness, he makes our father look limp as a noodle in comparison. Someone like that…" she sighed. "I guess he scares me because I don't think I can live up to that ideal."  
  
"Oh, Varielle," he hugged her as best he could. "You do have a knack for landing in the shit, don't you?"  
  
"Why didn't I just go for a nice quiet job as a court mediator?"  
  
"Hearing complaints about granny's best bedspread and uncle's wart medication and who broke the glass pitcher?"  
  
"Oh. Right. That." They shared sad weary chuckles before pulling apart. "Varielle?" he said. "Tell me something seriously. Are you happy right now?"  
  
"Not really. No." 


	28. That's later, this is now

Chapter 28: That's later, this is now  
  
Varielle was asleep in bed, dreaming. Simarell watched over his little sister as he had when they were little and she was tucked into a corner of his room in the big house they shared. "S'alright," he said. She'd always had nightmares as a child.  
She didn't hear him, whimpering, and then he realised her eyes were open, but she was still dreaming. He flinched in reflex, then reached out to wake her up. It didn't help.  
Finally she shot upright in her bed, eyes wide open and staring at a point beside her bed.  
"Varielle?" he asked nervously.  
She held up a hand for silence while she appeared to listen before reaching out, then her hand fell limp and she looked bereft.  
"What is it?"  
She jumped. "Arell!"  
"Varielle, what the hell just happened?"  
She looked around, then started to fumble for her uniform while trying not to cry. "When did you come in?"  
"About an hour ago. I wanted to make sure you were alright."  
"Not really," she looked away. "I just got treated to a view of the future and got to see a lot of people dying. Then…" She took a deep breath. "You know how Jedi sometimes appear as ghosts?"  
"Father…"  
"Yeah. He told me to get moving - and stop mourning."  
"Who was dying?"  
"A lot of Daniel's friends."  
"Where?"  
"That's the problem. I don't know." She sat back on her bed. "But I know what to ask. Where's my other boot?"  
"Under the bed." He fished it out. "Varielle, you've had how much sleep…"  
She sat down abruptly. "I know. Believe me, I know. I can't keep up this pace much longer."  
"You're seventeen, Varielle, you can't help everyone."  
"I know, or our father would be alive now. I wasn't good enough to save him, Arell."  
"Half a regiment might not have been good enough to save him."  
"But it was my responsibility."  
"No. Warning us was your responsibility."  
"Maybe in writing, but not in any other way. No, I should have saved him. And my team, all of my team." She suddenly slumped. "Arell, why is it I can see hundreds of people I have never met being attacked in time to stop it, but I had only two seconds warning before things started going wrong for my father? Why can I save people I barely know, but not my friends? Is that really what it means to be a Jedi?" She started to cry softly into her hands.  
"Hey," he sat awkwardly next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "No, that's not what it means, or you wouldn't be doing it." "Yes, I would, and I'd hate it, but I'd do it anyway, and so would Father. Right now I wish I could become a doctor or a street sweeper or almost anything else but a Jedi…" He had no idea what to do except keep holding her until she stopped weeping; it took less than two minutes before she was taking deep breaths and reaching for the remaining boot. "I've got to work."  
"Varielle, you can't do this to yourself and not pay."  
She paused. "Yeah. But I'll pay later, and this is now." She ran her hands over her hair. "I've just remembered why I'm usually glad I don't get premonitions often." 


	29. Justice, vengeance and war

Chapter 29: Justice, vengeance and war  
  
Daniel was talking to a panel, who were trying to educate him in the intricacies of their politics and culture while he was trying to pare away the propaganda. He missed Varielle's candid explanations. Someone knocked and Varielle stuck her head around the door. "Sorry to interrupt. Master Yeren, can I talk to you, please?" "Everything alright, Varielle?" he asked.  
"No, it's not." She looked terrible.  
"What's wrong?" Yeren asked her in a corner.  
Varielle lowered her voice. "Sometime within the next twenty-four hours the Goa'uld are going to attack one of the Tauri bases. Or at least there were a lot of Tauri there, but there were others as well, and a lot of them are going to die. But the attackers aren't all Jaffa and Goa'uld. There's others, strange ones. They feel - felt - warped somehow. And somehow, my father made sure I saw it. He told me we had to move now."  
"You saw him?"  
"Sort of. I wasn't… entirely awake. Arell was there, and he didn't see anything; it's, ah, something we did as kids, watching over each other to keep away nightmares."  
"Where was it?"  
"I don't know. Somewhere with lots of tall dark trees, rocks, bushes, streams - it felt like there had been people there for a while, but beyond that it was wild. I can't put it any better than that. It was sort of… part vision, part impressions. And I don't know anything more accurate than that."  
"You don't know which planet?"  
"No, but I think Daniel will. I saw one of his team-mates there, the female one named Carter. And that base had been there for a while, it was big, and there were several hundred people there at least. He has to know at least a bit about where it is; if he doesn't know, someone on their world will, and he can go there and ask."  
"You want to help them?"  
"I think we need those people."  
"You just don't want to see them die."  
"Haven't enough people died already? These Goa'uld aren't all bad, some of the species are alright, but some of them make the Sith look pleasant in comparison."  
"You know that?"  
"I know that now."  
"Will he believe you?"  
"I haven't lied to him yet, so I think so. I tried to explain to him what the Jedi can do."  
"Did he believe you?" "I don't think he wants to. He'd rather believe it's some kind of enhanced mental ability - they've seen examples of that in other places. I don't think he wants to accept the idea of the Force."  
"You've never entirely believed yourself, Varielle. It's caused plenty of problems."  
"I know there's something there, I'm just not sure it's quite the way it's commonly portrayed. And does that matter now?"  
"Where's Admiral Sadderve?"  
"Sleeping. She needs at least six hours a day just like the rest of us."  
"Fine. Pull your man out of there and bring him to my office."  
"He's not my man."  
"Could have fooled me, girl."  
"I've got other things on my mind."  
"Don't say he's too old for you."  
"Given my record I'll probably die before he does," she said grimly. "You know the stats."  
"Don't become one, that's the best option. Now go get him."  
"Daniel?" Varielle called. "Sorry, people, we'll have to cut this short."  
Daniel looked at Varielle. "What's wrong?"  
"Come this way." They headed off down the corridor.  
"What's going on?"  
She shut the door behind her. "Do your people have a base in a hill valley somewhere with slopes leading up to the mountains, buildings with curved roofs made of rippled metal down to the ground, lots of green trees around and mostly grey rock, and no iris over the Stargate?"  
He stared at her. "How'd you know that?"  
"It won't be there tomorrow. It's going to get invaded - mostly by very strange people in thick black armour that none of the weapons there stop, and they move slowly and have guns strapped to one arm and wear strange helmets."  
"Anubis' supersoldiers," he said. "At the Alpha Site." He looked sick.  
Yeren cleared her throat. "Varielle?"  
She realised she'd slipped into English and provided a translation. "I think this 'Alpha Site' was their first base off their Earth."  
"It is," Daniel said. "And we have plenty of our allies there as well."  
"Then they have to evacuate as quickly as possible," she said. "Will they listen to you?"  
"Yes, but I'll have to tell them where I got the information from."  
"Tell them we see the future," Yeren said. "It's like an early warning system."  
"That won't help much. They may not believe it."  
"Where can we put them?" Daniel asked.  
"The third planet we found," Varielle said. "We'd thought about putting a base there, but we were wary of putting people anywhere with only one way home. We've had people living there for a year, but only volunteers. I doubt the Goa'uld would want it, but we can put some people there for a while."  
"Why wouldn't they want it?"  
"It's geologically unstable. They have earthquakes every day, volcanic eruptions every so often. Plant life doesn't survive well, so it's not self-sustaining. Most of the people there are military scientists, studying either astronomy or geology. We've learned a lot there about predicting earthquakes and eruptions; the data's already being incorporated into the existing warning systems in danger areas."  
"We never really studied that off-world."  
"Well, we did," Yeren butted in. "But the fact is that you'll be giving us the address of your first and major off-world base based on our word that something bad is going to happen."  
He looked at Varielle. "Have you ever lied to me? Beyond saying you were fine when you weren't?" "She told you she was an apprentice when she wasn't," Yeren said.  
"I hadn't earned that rank. I still haven't. And you're not just trusting me with this information, you're trusting anyone with access to our computers, anyone who might have access, anyone standing near enough to see it, and anyone those people might talk to."  
"You know our world's address, right? If you were going to take out our iris, how would you do it?"  
Varielle paused to think about it. "There's a kind of highly focused laser beam we use for mining in cold areas, like airless moon valleys. If we used one of those on it, it would probably melt it. Put one on a variable mount and we could just cut a neat circle in your iris, and I doubt you could stop it. That technology is tried and tested; the only problem would be the fact that we'd have to vent our embarkation room while we did it. It's on board a ship with plenty of airlocks including in that room, so that's not difficult."  
"Would that work, Doctor Jackson?" Yeren asked.  
"Probably. But I'm no engineer."  
"I can think of others," Varielle said. "And an engineer could think of more. But the fact of the matter is that we haven't had time to officially debate what to do about your planet. If we leapfrog over that process, it could affect future negotiations. For good or bad, I don't know."  
"Consequences," he reminded her of their conversation in the library. They shared a wry smile. "Can I think for a moment?"  
"Sure. We'll need another half an hour before we wake up the Admiral; she's got to rest."  
"So do you."  
"And so do you." They glared at each other. "How do we kill these 'supersoldiers'?" Yeren asked. "Your projectile weapons don't work?"  
"No, they wear armour. It makes energy weapons ineffective as well."  
"We've got to be able to find something," Varielle said. "Lightsabers might well do the trick, but I don't like to get that close."  
"What?" Daniel asked.  
Varielle pulled hers out. "Remember when I cut the hole in your - what's the word - concrete? Officially these are for ceremonial purposes. Unofficially, all Jedi tend to use them in close quarters. They cut through anything except cortosis ore, which we haven't found any of in this galaxy…"  
"Cortosis?"  
"I'll explain later," Varielle said. "Although it takes more time with some things than others. It might well cut through your iris, although I wouldn't care to test that. This one cut through that fighter canopy just fine on that forest world."  
"You cut one of those canopies with that?" his eyebrows raised. Varielle hit the trigger button and the blade sprung out.  
"This one is fairly simple," she said. "You can get ones where you can alter the length, the width, the colour, the power of the blade; for trips through the Stargate my father wanted one he could fix if it broke. A simple design."  
"Do you have one?"  
"No. If I needed one he loaned me his spare. I made one once, to pass a test, but I didn't keep it. I preferred a blaster."  
"Why?"  
"I'm a very good shot, but not much good with one of these. I can't fight as well as most Jedi up close. I shoot well, I run well, that's about it."  
"It's more than I do."  
"You're a scientist. You're not required to fight. Jedi are." She shut it down and put it back on her belt. "With you it's useful, it helps keep your friends safe and helps you do your job properly."  
"It's also required for everyone who goes off-world."  
Varielle blushed as red as her colour allowed.  
Yeren cleared her throat. "While Varielle recovers from that stupid mistake, shall we try to figure out what to do next?"  
"The question is whether we want to actually fight the Goa'uld or just keep the people in danger safe."  
"That's not our call," Varielle said instantly. "We don't have the right to decide for our people whether to go to war."  
"Actually, we do," Yeren said. "Here."  
Varielle read the official dispatch bordered in red, then whistled.  
"What?"  
"Apparently the Chairman of the Senate decided that attacking our team on the forest world constituted an act of war. We can fight them if we like. The problem is that they're not a unified nation; the legal grounds for fighting one lot and not others are rather less clear. Besides, from what little you've told me, Daniel, we can't just assume all the Goa'uld are - what is your word - scumbags. There's bound to be at least a few with a decent sense of ethics, ones who look after their own people and haven't killed any of our troops."  
Yeren looked at Varielle and nodded. "They killed your father and you call for peace?"  
Varielle looked down. "Justice is one thing. Vengeance is another. War is a third. I want justice for the deaths of my friends. I also want vengeance, but I know I shouldn't get it. But war…" She shook her head. "Wars are messy. A lot of people die in war. It's usually the most inefficient way of hurting the ones you're really after. I doubt very many of these System Lords lead their troops from the front."  
"You're right about that," Daniel said. "And I agree."  
"You've known the same pain," she said softly. "And you felt the same - at the time you wanted everyone to pay, all of them with interest even if they hadn't been personally involved, but once you calmed down you saw it the same way as I do."  
"Yes," he admitted after a moment. "Are you sure this attack is going to happen?"  
"Not scientifically," she said. "Instinctively? Yes. But even Jedi have been wrong before. We're not perfect and don't claim to be."  
He nodded and stared into space for a moment. "Do I have your word that if you give our people sanctuary, they'll be free to go whenever they please?"  
"Yes, so long as they don't endanger our people in the process," Yeren said. "I'll get Sadderve to guarantee that in writing. If only because doing so would be unlawful detainment, which we consider a form of kidnapping."  
"Which they could go to jail for," Varielle said.  
"But we're not your citizens."  
"Doesn't matter. You're alive and you're sentient. It might interest you to know that our laws about things like assault or abuse of prisoners apply to prisoners of war as well; under our law if we don't give them - what's your word - humane treatment, giving them beds and food and medicine - then we're guilty of civil or criminal offences."  
"Really?" He seemed pleasantly surprised. "Those laws date back to before the Journey. The Republic spanned the galaxy, but didn't include it all. Some systems were independent."  
"We can find another site for a base. What sort of attack?"  
"First orbital bombardment, then ground troops," she said. "What I saw didn't let me see specifics. But it ended with a huge explosion."  
"The base has a self-destruct system."  
"Then we'd better move fast," Yeren said. "How many people will we need?"  
"As few as possible," Varielle said.  
"What?"  
"Well, we want them to evacuate, not start the fight by fighting us," Varielle said. "Besides, when none of our people can so much as ask where the bathroom is in your language, bringing heavily armed troop convoys in would be a very bad idea."  
"Damn this language barrier," Yeren said. "Varielle, I don't want you getting hurt, hear me? Or you, Doctor. We're going to need you both very badly as translators and you're both exhausted, especially Varielle."  
"Can I ask something?" Daniel said.  
"Yes."  
"Varielle sees our people dying - and you never question that you should help?"  
The Jedi exchanged looks. "It's what we do," Varielle said.  
"And it really annoys a lot of people," Yeren said. "We're supposed to be the ultimate honourable incorruptible heroes of the people. When people find out that sometimes that's what we are, it comes as a nasty shock." 


	30. Go be in charge

Chapter 30: Go be in charge  
  
Sam had come out of her laboratory for some air and a meal when she saw the Stargate start to spin.  
"Who's coming through?"  
"Don't know, sir," one of the guards said. "No one's due through."  
The surface of the wormhole formed, rippled, and slowly spat out a missing archaeologist. "Er. Hi, Sam," he said awkwardly.  
  
Jack headed down to the control room, wondering what was so important. General Hammond was talking on the phone to someone.  
"What's up?" he asked.  
"We just got a call from the Alpha site."  
"And?"  
"And I'd like you to judge for yourself, Colonel. Gear up and go."  
"What's going on, sir?"  
"You'll see soon enough, Jack."  
  
Colonel O'Neill, mystified and more than a bit irritated, emerged from the wormhole to see two very familiar and very tired people slumped against a wall arguing furiously.  
"Daniel!" he said. "Are you alright?"  
"I'm fine, Jack."  
"He's lying, of course," Varielle said.  
He looked at her. "Are you alright?"  
"Yes."  
"She's lying," Daniel said.  
"Are you trying to make my job more difficult?"  
"I could ask you the same question."  
"But you haven't yet." She leaned back against the wall rubbing her eyes. "I don't suppose you could talk these people into evacuating, could you? You've got maybe three hours."  
"How do you know that?"  
"For'nyl simath'na," a tall dark-skinned man in a black uniform handed her a datapad.  
"How fast are they approaching?" she asked in her own language.  
"We don't have long," he said. "A few hours, perhaps. Probably less. Those things are huge."  
"What things?" Daniel asked in English, looking over her shoulder. "Goa'uld motherships," he said. "Has to be."  
"What?" Jack peered over her other shoulder. She turned it around so he could see the image. "How'd you get that?"  
"We set up some sensors over there. We've got good gear."  
"Better than ours, sir," a lieutenant who had been listening remarked.  
"How many of you are there?"  
"Only twelve," she said. "We haven't had much luck convincing the people here we actually know what we're talking about."  
"How did you know?" he asked suspiciously.  
"That's going to take some explaining," she said wryly.  
"Well, how'd you know where to dial?" he asked. Then he turned slowly. "Daniel!"  
"He didn't tell us on the spur of the moment," Varielle snapped. "Don't yell at him. He did the right thing. Now follow his example and start getting these people out of here!"  
He looked down at her, and remembered she was seventeen. "Who are you to be giving orders to me…" he began. A petite dark-haired lady came around the corner, wearing the same type of clothes as Varielle.  
"Is he the one in charge?" she jerked a thumb at him. Jack blinked, not understanding a word of the language. Varielle nodded. "Right. Translate for me, would you? You're being an idiot. We came to warn you. We didn't have to. Now pay attention, and maybe all of these people will come out of this alive."  
O'Neill flushed a brilliant red. "Let me see that… thingumajig… again."  
"Computer, Jack," Daniel said helpfully. Varielle handed it over. "Don't touch the keys," she warned.  
"Where are we going to put everyone?" he asked.  
"We've got a world you can use, or you can trust your own knowledge," she said. "Better make up your mind fast if you expect to salvage much of the equipment."  
"Tell me something, are you always so annoying?"  
"Yes."  
"No."  
Jack darted a look at Daniel. "I wasn't talking to you."  
"You guys really don't believe in welcoming your friends home, do you?" Varielle asked.  
He blinked. "What?"  
"You're allowed to say something besides 'what'," she needled. "But for now, you're in charge. So go be in charge." 


	31. Selfdestruct

Chapter 31: Self-destruct  
  
The representative from the Pentagon was looking very ired. "So you're saying that…" The klaxons went off, cutting him short.  
"General?" An airman stuck his head around the door. "It's the Alpha Site, sir. They're evacuating." "I'm coming," he got up. "Any idea what's going on?"  
"The Goa'uld motherships are on the way," the airman said. "They're sending a lot of the people through now. Major Carter wanted to stay behind to finish her work on the energy weapon."  
"Right," he strode into the control room where the Stargate was disgorging troops with boxes and bags in a constant stream.  
"How many more to come?"  
"About thirty, sir," a seargent told him.  
  
"How's it going?" Varielle asked nervously as both Carters hovered over their prototype.  
"I just need to erase the information. We can't leave it lying around for them to find…" The roof shook hard.  
"Got a better idea," she drew her blaster. "How about I just shoot up the computer?"  
"No!" Sam yelled, typing frantically. Jacob Carter then got to watch a sequence of events that happened almost too fast to see. Varielle drew a slender metal cylinder from her belt and turned it into a golden blade of light. She also twisted frantically to one side, hair flying, and bolt of energy blasted a hole through the door which she caught on the blade and it somehow was deflected through the ceiling. The doors of the laboratory flew inward to reveal a supersoldier in full dark armour raising its weapon just before its arm was cut off near the elbow; finally Varielle whipped her lightsaber in a practiced elegant movement that sent the armoured head flying.  
"Are you finished?" she asked, gasping.  
"Yes," Carter grabbed the prototype weapon.  
"Good. Let's run." They ran.  
"How long?"  
"Not very," Sam said.  
"This way." She dodged sideways. "There's a whole bunch of them over there." "Are the others alright?"  
"They just went through the Stargate."  
"How do you know that?" Jacob asked.  
"Run faster," she told them both, heading into the woods. "Right now." They sprinted, reaching the trees just ahead of lumbering black figures, and Varielle took the rear, calling out directions until they reached a stand of rocks.  
"Take cover," she said.  
"That auto-destruct should be going off in twenty seconds," Sam Carter said as they hunkered down. "How'd you know this would be here?"  
"I didn't." She peered around one side of the rock, loose strands of hair plastered to her forehead. "Good thing everyone else has gone."  
"How'd you convince that lady to leave?"  
"Yeren? I didn't. She decided. She's not stupid."  
"What are you?" Selmak asked.  
"What?"  
"You reacted to the attack before it happened. What are you?"  
She smiled mirthlessly. "A Jedi." Behind them the base exploded and all of them ducked. The noise was incredible.  
"Well," she said as soon as the debris had ceased raining, "I must say you certainly know how to host a party."  
"Was that supposed to be funny?"  
"It was supposed to be sarcastic." She peered around the rock again. "They're not all dead. I think one survived."  
"Why do you think that?"  
"It's coming this way."  
"Oh, crap."  
"Will that thing work?"  
"Yes."  
"We don't know."  
"Make up your minds. All three of them."  
"I can try."  
"Well, if that doesn't work, I know this can kill them," she hefted the lightsaber. "I'll need to get close, though."  
"How close?"  
"Close enough to cut it," she triggered the blade. "They're fast," Sam warned.  
"Let's hope I'm faster." She frowned. "They don't feel quite human."  
"They're not. They're genetically engineered."  
"That would explain a lot." Sam stood up, took aim, fired, landed two good shots and ducked down.  
"Did it work?" Jacob asked.  
"No," Varielle said.  
"The power module…"  
"Don't tell me the batteries are flat," Varielle pleaded. "Alright, plan two."  
"What's that?" Jacob asked warily. Varielle closed her eyes and paused, poised, then leaped straight up more than twenty feet, twisting in mid-air to come down on top of the supersoldier with the lightsaber pointed straight down, hilt braced in both hands. The pair collapsed into the gritty dirt, one dead and one bruised. After a moment she rolled to her feet and spat out a mouthful of dirt. "Wow," Sam finally said.  
"Thanks for that. Can we get out of here now?"  
"Where's the Stargate?"  
She spun, looking for it. "There. It's been knocked flat."  
"I don't suppose you can lift it up," Jacob said tentatively, looking at her with new respect.  
"It's too heavy," she shook her head. "If we want to go home, we'd better find a lever and some rope."  
"Could others lift it?" Selmak asked.  
"Some of them," she acknowledged. "I could if I didn't mind the fact I'd probably be unconscious for a day or two afterwards. And that's normally; right now it'd be longer."  
"Ouch," Sam said. "Why?"  
"The energy has to come from somewhere. Just because we lift things in a different way - you call it the Law of Conservation of Energy. Our name is a bit different, but the principle is the same. Some of us can draw energy from outside us; I can't, not really."  
"Why not?"  
She shrugged. "It just doesn't work that way for me. There's a lot of 'whys' and 'hows' we still don't know, even after thousands of years."  
"Does that make you weaker than others?" Selmak asked.  
"Yes, but it also means I can do work others can't, because I have finer control. It's a trade-off. It's almost impossible to have both strength and control at the same time. Now, how do we get this thing upright so we can get out of here?"  
"We could just direct-dial and jump through," Jacob said.  
"Wrong way up," Sam and Varielle chorused. 


	32. Reunion

Chapter 32: Reunion  
  
General Hammond sighed in profound relief as Daniel came walking down the ramp nursing a wounded ankle; he had stayed almost until the last moment helping Jaffa evacuate.  
The eleven uniformed strangers were standing in a corner, quietly waiting. "Doctor Jackson," Hammond greeted him warmly. "Welcome back."  
"It's good to be back," he said a little hesitantly. "Did Jack explain what's going on?"  
"Yes, but not why," he said. "I can see you had a run-in with a Jaffa."  
"It's just a slight burn, sir," he said truthfully. "It's not serious, honestly."  
"Did everyone make it out?"  
"Sam, Jacob and Varielle stayed behind to finish their energy weapon and destroy the data," he looked incredibly weary. "They should be along shortly." The wormhole cut out.  
"Or not," Jack said, looking a little haunted. "Are you alright, Daniel?"  
"I'm fine."  
"Really?"  
"Yes." He paused. "What happened here after I left?"  
"Well, General Hammond hit the roof, Bletchley hit the roof, the Tok'ra hit the roof… everyone was annoyed."  
"They wanted to fire you," someone said to him. "But Hammond yelled at 'em and they went away." The speaker was glared at and he hastily retreated to safe distance.  
"What are we supposed to do about them?" Hammond gestured to the assortment of strangers; one was easily seven feet tall and covered in brown fur, and the small band of cloth was clearly as a concession to the need for uniform and identification rather than out of any regard for bodily modesty or heat. Yeren looked quite out of place next to the hulking band of conventional soldiers, all of whom were at least a head taller than her. "We talk to them, I guess," Daniel said. "Try to negotiate."  
"We're not exactly in a position of strength here, Doctor," General Hammond said.  
"Yes, because trying to kidnap one of them is such a wonderful welcome mat," Jack said with mock cheer.  
"Yes, we are," Daniel said. "General, they know almost nothing about the Goa'uld. Biology, history, language, culture, politics, technology - everything we've been learning ever since we opened the Stargate. Not only that, they've got no common history with us I've been able to find, so they can't learn to read all the languages out there and talk to all the people without spending years at it. But they know they need military intelligence, and we've got it. Even just knowing which systems the Goa'uld control and how to find out if someone's been infested…"  
"Ah," Jack said, enlightened. "But what do they have to trade?"  
"They're over a century ahead of us, technology-wise, and they're willing to share at least some of it. If it's a fair trade. But they're wary. They don't trust our ethics."  
"With good reason," Jack said.  
"Can you understand their language?"  
"Sometimes," Daniel said. "Not well enough to write a treaty or a trade agreement. Varielle is going to have to do the translating until I get a chance to practice."  
"How is she?"  
"Exhausted," Daniel said grimly. "But alive."  
"And them?"  
"I don't know. Worried, probably."  
"Where is…" The wormhole sprung to life.  
"We're getting a signal," the seargent on duty said. "It's SG-1."  
"Sam," Daniel said. "Open the iris," Hammond ordered. A few seconds later Varielle, Sam and Jacob stepped through. All three were liberally coated in grime. "General Hammond," Varielle said to him. "I'm afraid there's not much left of your Alpha Site."  
"Are you alright?" Yeren asked her in their language.  
"Yes," she said briefly. "What do you want me to say?"  
"Can you translate for me? Word for word?"  
"Alright."  
"General Hammond, my name is Yeren. I'm in charge of this team. I'd like to talk to you about several things, such as trading information, the possibility of an alliance, and people in your society who approve of sentients as laboratory test subjects. And I'd like to discuss the last one first. I think you - or more correctly, your people - have a great deal of explaining to do." Varielle finished the translation a few beats behind her superior's speech.  
Hammond's face tightened. "May I have a few minutes to see to my people first?"  
"Certainly. I'll do the same."  
"Will you be staying here long?"  
"That depends on your answers."  
On the far side of the room, SG-1 were enjoying their reunion and eying the newcomers.  
"What are they saying?" Jack asked Daniel.  
He strained his ears over the hubbub. "I think they're going to stay and be diplomatic."  
"Oh, great."  
"Yes, isn't it," Daniel said. "They'd be good allies, Jack."  
"Really."  
"Yes." 


	33. Introductory talks

Chapter 33: Introductory talks  
  
Jack eyed Daniel with carefully concealed bemusement as he and Varielle neatly mediated the wrangling speakers at the table; Yeren and four of her soldiers, with the others standing behind her, Selmak, a Jaffa, Hammond, Paul Davis, Bletchley and himself. The two of them were not only translating swiftly and accurately, but keeping tempers in check while they did it. As individuals it would be a truly impressive display of ability; as a pair it was an incredible show of mind-reading, to all appearances.  
"But that doesn't address the question I asked," Yeren was saying with steel in her voice. "What are you doing to make sure this never happens again?"  
Bletchley was opening and shutting his mouth.  
"Because," Yeren said, "if this can happen more than once, then there must be what we would consider a fundamental flaw in your government, and we will not be willing to enter into any permanent arrangements until this is fixed." "It has not happened 'more than once'," Bletchley imitated Varielle's precise tones. She translated.  
"Who are the Tollan, Colonel?" Yeren countered. "How did you treat them?"  
Silence reigned at the table. "Well?" she asked. "I wish to know how this can be permitted to happen. If you cannot tell me, I will wait until I speak to someone who can. Make no mistakes, gentlemen, in this matter I am my government's representative, and can make decisions on my own. If you cannot explain it to me, I will wait. Whether the person responsible for this is an officer, a beaurocrat or your President, I will speak to him, her or them before I agree to so much as a chance to hold language classes."  
"There is no one responsible."  
"Someone must have authorised this. I don't care if it was an entire branch of your government. I want names and degrees of liability." Varielle rested her hands on the table. "I have no patience with the idea that if everyone is responsible, no one is to blame. In such a case, everyone is to blame. That defence will not work. And I can wait."  
After the meeting broke up Jack snagged Daniel's sleeve. "Nice work in there."  
"Oh. Thanks, Jack." He peered down at his books.  
"Is there a problem?"  
"I left my glasses in there." He half-turned to go back and Varielle dropped them into her hand as she passed.  
"Hey," Jack asked her, "did Yeren mean that stuff about wanting names?"  
"Oh, yes," she grinned. "Yeren used to work with - I think you would call it our bureau of internal affairs. It's not called that… anyway, she led several investigations of corruption and the like and was responsible for some serious shake-ups in our government. She's very good at getting to the bottom of things."  
"Why'd she stop doing it?"  
"She got old."  
Jack darted a glance at her. "She's not much older than I am."  
"She'd be flattered to know you think so, but you're underestimating her age by a factor of three."  
"Eh?"  
"Jedi live a long time, if we don't get ourselves killed. My father was nearly two hundred when he died; that's about the upper end for humans." She turned and walked away.  
"Varielle?" Daniel called.  
"Yeah?"  
"How soon are you guys leaving?"  
She raised her hands in the air. "Search me. It's Yeren's call."  
Jack watched her go. "Well?"  
"Well, what?" He stuck his glasses over his ears. "Where's Bletchley gone?"  
"Search me," he copied Varielle's intonation. "But you'd better go home and feed your fish some time this week." He paused. "Did you know how long they live? And how they manage it?"  
"I'm not even sure how they do what they do. She tried to explain it to me and I tried to understand, but the concept of aging slowly never came up." 


	34. I'm doomed

Chapter 34: I'm doomed  
  
Varielle and Yeren talked softly.  
"You think we should talk to them?" Yeren asked.  
"It's not accomplishing anything," she said.  
"That's not what I asked. If you were in charge, how would you do this?" Her tone said it was a test.  
"Wait for the names and liabilities. We can't afford to back down on that one. After that negotiate for some tactical information - I was thinking of offering them some improved life support systems for on board ships, apparently they don't have any exchange filters for oxygen and carbon dioxide. I think that's a mild enough technology." "What else?"  
"Language lessons - swap ours for theirs. Basic for English. Then start on the other languages - the important ones on this planet, and the Goa'uld language. But we'd need to iron out some kind of rules about other deals with the Tok'ra and the Jaffa. We'd probably get the best deal by holding competitive bidding…"  
At that Yeren cracked up.  
"In that case," she grinned and pulled up two chairs, "Captain, please take a seat and listen in." He did so. "We'd better move fast, because we've run roughshod over the people who should be dealing with this and they'll want to run things their way, the politically expedient way. So to do things our way, we need several things. First, we're going to need a permanent ambassador to this place, and it's got to be someone who speaks the languages and savvies the politics and laws of both sides…"  
"Oh, no, no, no. No way in hell! I mean, I'm not even old enough to drink, legally! I've been a full Knight for all of a day!"  
"Quite a bit longer than that; the Council ruled Amarell's field promotion as valid. Now I don't want an embassy here to be without a Jedi. We've got to move fast if we don't what this to be an election issue; it'll take forever to get it settled. So we do this now."  
Varielle crossed her wrists on the table and banged her head rhythmically against her forearms. "Oh, great."  
"And your first job as our newest - and only - Ambassador is to convince them to give us the plans for the control devices for the Stargates so we never have another team trapped like yours was."  
"Does this mean we have to take her orders?" the Captain asked.  
"We'll send a few special fighters to take over the job of embassy guards as soon as we've got an actual embassy to guard," Yeren said. "People very good at languages and science. We'll offer them the same courtesy, but you have to make sure you chose their ambassador to us. I don't want someone you don't trust coming to our home."  
"Alright." Varielle was breathing deeply, trying to think.  
"Oh," Yeren paused in the doorway in the act of leaving, "and ask that nice blonde scientist out to dinner. As a thank-you. We'll foot the bill."  
"Don't match-make, Yeren, it doesn't suit you. Why don't you take the General out to dinner? He'd be alright, he's quite mature for all you're three times his age, and I gather he's widowed…" A pillow bounced off her head. The Captain, a not overly serious man by nature, was fighting not to laugh.  
"Are all Jedi so interesting to be around?" he asked.  
"Oh, no. But the two of us aren't exactly typical."  
"So what are you going to do now?"  
Varielle's eyes unfocused for a moment. "I am a servant of the Second Republic. I'll do my duty."  
"Good. Now which one was she asking you to date?"  
"I'm doomed." 


	35. Difficult I can handle

Chapter 35: Difficult I can handle  
  
"Daniel?" Varielle was in the doorway, her body language speaking of concealed uncertainty.  
"Yes?" He shoved his books away and got up. "I was just trying to work up a basic phrase manual…"  
"I can come back…"  
"No, it's fine."  
"Good. I brought coffee." She handed him a mug and took a seat. "I hear your troops are going back?"  
"All but two of them," she nodded. "Yeren and I are staying until we've got a basic truce worked out."  
"Where are you going after that?" he asked.  
"I'm staying here," she said. "They're making me the Ambassador."  
He choked on the coffee. "Sorry," he said after a moment. "I was just surprised, that's all. I'd thought, well…"  
"Someone older would get the job? So did I. Yeren wanted the Ambassador to be a Jedi, and she's running things. The politicians are all fighting over it as a campaign issue." She shook her head. "She also told me to take you out to a really nice restaurant as a thank-you for all you did for us, or at least a partial thanks. She gave me some things, some precious metals and gems out of Jedi funds; any ideas how I go about turning them into hard currency?"  
"She told you that?"  
"Actually, yes. Most people don't suspect that Jedi are closet romantics. This is their idea of subtlety."  
Daniel flushed. "Varielle, look, um…" He paused and she waited. "I like you, but…"  
"I'm younger, and we're co-workers, and you've lost so much in your life you don't want to lose any more?"  
He nodded.  
"Well, if I stay in a peaceful job I'll probably outlive you by a century, and we're co-workers, and I've lost a lot in my life as well including a home and two sets of parents. So I think we're about even." She shrugged. "I'm content to wait and see if we find we can't stand each other."  
"I, I think I could live with that."  
"Good." She smiled. "Because I'm probably going to give you a lot of grief, starting with this concept of yours of a national draft. After that, I'm going to go through that book of yours and point out all the mistakes. After that, we've got to go and translate while Yeren and Bletchley yell at each other in front of some rather important people. After that, I've got to come up with some kind of convincing argument to let my people get diplomatic immunity and resident status if we open up an embassy here. After that, some of your leadership want weapons schematics and we're not giving them up right now. So what say before that we grab a bite to eat, preferably of something that is actually food instead of the mutated glassware served in your mess?"  
"Alright," Daniel looked a bit pole-axed. "Tell me, are you always like this?"  
"Only when I'm exhausted."  
"When are you going to stop being exhausted?"  
"It'll probably be quite some time."  
"Oh, no."  
"Oh, don't worry. I'll sleep. Probably some time next week."  
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"  
"Only a little." She sighed. "I'm sorry."  
"It's alright."  
"Thank you." There was silence for a moment.  
"Well," Daniel said, "I guess if you want real food, that's going to be a bit difficult…"  
"Difficult I can handle. I'm no fainting blossom."  
"So I've noticed."  
She laughed. "C'mon. Let's have lunch. Everything else, I'll take as it comes."  
  
THE END - FOR NOW 


End file.
